Obstruction
by kokoda2007
Summary: After a severe choking incident, the brothers head to Bobby's. Not yet well, is Sam ready for a new hunt? Limp Sam fic with Dean comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N:** Set anytime during Seasons 1 or 2. No spoilers.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 1**

"For crying out loud Sam, would you hurry up" Dean yelled from his position at the motel room door.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on …I'm coming." Sam replied, moving at a leisurely pace towards his brother.

Dean strode towards the Impala and waited impatiently at the side of the car for Sam to throw his bag into the trunk. He'd been keen to make an early start, but for once they'd both slept in, and Sam had been moving at an agonizingly slow pace ever since he'd woken him up.

Sam hadn't appreciated Dean's wake up call. As he tossed his bag in the trunk, he thought enviously of the bed back in the motel room. For once, he'd slept well, very well, his dreams not plagued by nightmares, his night not dragging with insomnia.

"You know Dean, we're not in any rush, it wouldn't have hurt you to let me sleep a little longer …you know, that bed was real comfy."

"Yeah well, I know you need your beauty sleep, but I want to get to Bobby's before dark."

"What time's Bobby expecting us?" Sam asked.

"Said he'd make a pot of chilli for dinner, so I guess 'round then."

"You know, if he's making chilli, maybe it'll be safer to pick up something to eat before we get there." Sam shuddered at the memory of his last taste of Bobby's very hot chilli, his stomache already clenching in repulsion.

"Nah" Dean grinned, "Can't miss a pot of Bobby's chilli."

Dean vividly remembered the last time Bobby presented them both with steaming bowls of his famous chilli. Sam's eyes had started to water after the first few mouthfuls, and he'd washed each spoonful down with copious amounts of cold water. Eating his own bowlful with relish, he'd enjoyed the entertainment Sam had provided. This time, on hearing what Bobby planned to cook, he'd asked him to make it extra hot, just for Sam. His eyes lit up with anticipation.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Dean eased his body into the car seat, his muscles relaxed and mind at ease. It was good to be getting back on the open road again. They'd recently finished up a hunt, and had nothing new lined up at the moment. It felt good just to relax.

Bobby had phoned a couple of days ago, just to check up on the brother's. When he'd issued the invitation for them to come and stay for a few days, Dean and Sam had both jumped at the opportunity of a few days break. Dean also anticipated the opportunity of giving his car a much needed service, and had asked Bobby to order in a couple of parts. Yeah, Dean thought, everything was good.

Dean stroked his hand lovingly along the Impala's dash as he started the engine. "Don't worry baby" he said. "I'm gonna take care of you when we get to Bobby's"

"Dean, you're talking to the car."

"She's not just a car Sammy." Dean gave the dash another caress. "Don't listen to him baby, he doesn't understand."

"Dean …just …just drive." Sam said in resignation. He just couldn't quite understand Dean's bond with the Impala.

Dean smiled as he pulled the Impala out onto the highway. Yeah, he was going to enjoy spending a day working on the car at Bobby's. He turned on the music as he focused on the pleasure of driving.

A couple of hours later, he looked across the car to see Sam sleeping, a thin line of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth. Resisting the urge to take a photo, he instead turned up the music, abruptly waking his brother from a deep sleep.

Sam turned to Dean, rubbing a hand across his bleary eyes, before swiping away the drool from his chin.

"Asshole" he muttered as he sat up a little straighter and took stock of their surroundings.

"I'm starving Sammy" Dean stated bluntly, pulling the Impala off the road to park outside a busy diner.

Dean got out of the car quickly, his mouth watering in anticipation of a juicy burger, maybe some fries. Sam slowly followed, stretching his limbs and rotating his neck to remove the kinks the awkward sleeping position had given him. Arriving in the diner a moment behind Dean, he saw Dean already seated in a booth, perusing the menu and eyeing the waitress.

"Too young for you Dean" Sam stated emphatically, following the direction of his brother's eyes.

"Doesn't hurt to look Sammy." Dean replied with a smile, not taking his gaze off the young waitress as she approached their booth.

Sam watched as Dean flirted shamelessly with the waitress as she took their order. He had to admit, Dean really knew how to turn on the charm when it suited him.

Sam smiled politely at the waitress as he gave his order, kicking his brother under the table in exasperation as the waitress left.

"They should lock you up for your thoughts Dean."

Dean grinned as he watched the waitress depart. "Yeah …probably should."

They were lost in conversation with their burgers arrived ten minutes later, freshly cooked and steaming on the plate. Dean grabbed his eagerly, shoving as much as he could into his mouth with the first bite. The sauce ran down his chin and he chewed with his mouth open, pausing only to shove in a couple of fries. Turning away from the sight, Sam took a mouthful of his own burger, savoring the flavor.

A short while later, with their meal finished, Dean went up to the counter to pay while Sam went to the restroom. Sam had suggested he wash his face, but Dean reckoned a quick wipe with a napkin would do.

Unable to resist, at the counter he also grabbed a big bag of peanut m-m's, a couple of chocolate bars and a bottle of water to go. That would keep them going until they reached Bobby's he thought, not wanting to give Sam an excuse to stop again and be late in reaching Bobby's.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

They were only a couple of hours out from Bobby's place when Dean opened the bag of m-m's on the seat beside him. He tossed a chocolate bar onto Sam's lap, jolting his brother from his trance.

Sam put the chocolate bar back on the seat. "No thanks Dean" he said, going back to observing the passing scenery.

Sam was enjoying the drive. Dean was in a good mood, the music wasn't playing too loud, and he was looking forward to staying with Bobby for a few days. All things considered, not a bad day, he thought.

A little while later, Sam absently reached for the open bag of m-m's, taking a few and munching quietly. When he'd finished the ones in his hand, he reached to grab a few more.

"What the…" Dean blurted out as his hand met Sam's as he reached for more m-m's for himself. "They're mine …I got you your own chocolate." Dean sounded like a petulant child and Sam smiled as he withdrew his handful of candy.

Dean tried to grab Sam's hand and wrestle back the candy.

"Too late." Sam said, shoving the candy into his mouth.

"Bitch" Dean said to his brother.

"Jerk" Sam mumbled with a smile, having difficulty talking around the mouthful of chocolate coated nuts.

"Shit" Dean shouted, slamming on the brakes and swerving as a dog ran across the road, directly in their path. He narrowly missed the animal, which slunk back into the long grass after its close encounter.

Sam saw the dog wander onto the road at the same moment as Dean. His body was jolted forward against the seatbelt as Dean forcefully slammed on the brakes. He threw both hands onto the dash to brace himself when Dean yanked on the steering wheel, the car swerving violently to avoid the dog crossing the road.

As soon as the Impala was driving smoothly again, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. That was close, he thought, thankful that his car had come through unscathed.

He glanced across at his brother. Sam still had both hands braced on the dash, his head resting between them.

"Sam you okay?" He asked urgently, concerned that his brother hadn't moved; hadn't even made a sarcastic comment about his driving skills.

Sam coughed weakly in response.

"Sammy?"

Sam couldn't breathe. He desperately tried to draw air into his aching lungs, a high pitched wheeze the only response. He coughed, gagged, trying desperately to dislodge the peanut m-m caught in his throat.

It took Dean a few precious seconds to realize that Sam was choking. He took a hand off the steering wheel and gave Sam a firm thump on the centre of his back.

Sam continued to choke, clawing at his throat in an effort to inhale the much needed oxygen.

Dean hastily pulled the car to the side of the road before reaching across to again thump Sam firmly on his back. And again.

Sam continued to claw at his throat, hoping to dislodge the obstruction.

Trying to control his mounting panic, Dean quickly got out of the car; running to Sam's side of the car and wrenching open the door.

"Sammy" he urged, pushing his brother upright in his seat.

He saw Sam's mouth open, desperately gaping as it tried to draw in air. Sam's lips and fingernail beds were already turning a bluish-gray in color.

Sam raised his panicked eyes to Dean as he continued to try and draw breath. He futilely hit his own chest trying to get some relief from the suffocating feeling. His vision was starting to blur, and it was becoming more and more difficult to move his limbs, to hold up his head. Black spots encroached on his vision and he knew he was fast losing his battle to stay conscious.

Dean dragged his brother from the car.

Sam's body swayed as Dean pulled him out of the car and into a standing position. He propped his brother's back against the car for support before he turned and maneuvered him so that his back was aligned to Dean's chest, with Dean leaning against the side of the Impala for support. He braced himself under Sam's weight.

"Hold on Sammy" he said shakily as he shifted to reposition his brother.

He wrapped his arms around Sam's waist and tipped him forward slightly. Making a fist with one hand and grasping it in the other he pressed down forcefully into Sam's abdomen, making a quick upward thrust.

Sam jerked with the action, and would have fallen had Dean not been holding him.

The candy remained lodged.

Sam felt himself slipping sideways as his vision blurred and his body started to shut down. His hands hung limply at his side, and his head rolled weightlessly on his neck. He ineffectively tried to inhale.

Dean felt Sam slipping and quickly pulled him back into position. He again thrust his clenched fists into his brother's abdomen, jolting his brother's body upwards and forwards.

Sam again slumped forward in his arms, the item still lodged in his throat.

Sam wasn't breathing.

**TBC.**

**A/N:** Reviews feed me – and I'm hungry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **As always, I really appreciate the reviews. Without them …well, I just wouldn't write.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 2**

Dean could feel Sam slumping in his arms. His brother wasn't breathing, wasn't responding. How long had it been since Sammy's last breath? He was too panicked to try to calculate.

As Sam started to fall limp in his arms, he propped him up, using all his strength to give one final thrust of his fists into Sam's abdomen.

Dean saw a blue m-m fall to the ground from Sam's unmoving mouth.

With clammy, unsteady hands, he gently lowered his brother to the ground beside the car.

"Sammy" he said shakily, placing a hand on Sam's pale cheek.

No response.

Curtailing his panic in his need to help his brother, he checked for breath sounds.

Sam still wasn't breathing.

His chest remained still.

His body remained limp.

Dean positioned Sam flat on his back, kneeling next to his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he started CPR.

Dean gave Sam two quick breaths, watching as his chest rose and fell, relieved that his airway was no longer obstructed.

Placing his hands, one atop the other, on his brother's chest, Dean started compressions. Leaning his weight into each push, he counted the compressions out loud.

"One, two, three, four, five… come on Sammy, breathe…"

Moving back to Sam's face, he drew a deep breath before again tilting back Sam's head, pinching his nose and giving him a deep breath. Then another.

"Come on …come on" he whispered, watching Sam fervently for any sign of movement, any breath.

He shifted again, ready to start the next round of compressions. He momentarily considered calling 9-1-1, but knew that help was too far away. Sam needed to breathe, and he needed to do it now.

Dean's hands were on Sam's chest, ready to push down and start the next round of compressions, when he noticed Sam's hand move. Just a small movement, a twitch, but discernable none the less.

"Sammy?" he whispered, hope seeping through his voice.

Sam slowly raised a hand to his chest, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

Dean grasped Sam's hand, watching Sam intently as his eyes fluttered, a small groan escaping his mouth.

"Sammy …come on open your eyes …talk to me." Dean begged unashamedly, maintaining his tight grasp of his brother's hand.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the harsh sunlight. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. To remember what had happened. He looked into Dean's intent gaze.

"Dean" he croaked, trying to shift his position.

"God Sammy …you gave me a fright." Dean laid a firm hand on Sam's shoulder, preventing him from moving further. "No, don't try to move …just stay still for a few minutes …how do you feel?"

It took Sam a moment to comprehend Dean's words. His head was thumping; his throat hurt and his chest ached with every breath he took.

"I'm fine" he answered.

"Yeah Sam, I can see that."

"What happened?" Sam asked; his voice still raspy.

"You don't remember?" Dean asked in concern, worried that Sam might have been deprived of oxygen for too long.

"Yeah, I was choking, then… I… ah… couldn't breathe…"

"Yeah …you scared the shit out of me Sam. …I mean, really scared me. …Shit, Sammy, you stopped breathing …I had to give you CPR," he rambled.

"Dean …thanks." Sam's voice was hoarse. Talking a little painful.

"God Sammy, I was so scared …what if you didn't start breathing again. If I lost you …I don't know what I'd do." Dean said brokenly.

"It's okay Dean …I'm okay."

Dean stayed by Sam's side for a few more minutes before he allowed him to move.

Dean gently assisted Sam into a sitting position, propping his shoulder behind his brother's and looping an arm across his back, hooking it under his arm. He held Sam securely, making sure the position didn't cause Sam any distress or further pain.

Sam held a hand to his chest, rubbing absently on his tender sternum and ribs.

"You okay Sammy?"

"Yeah, just a bit sore."

Seeing Sam's actions, Dean propped Sam against the car, allowing him better access to check Sam's upper body. He ran his hands expertly down Sam's chest, feeling for any broken ribs.

Sam ineffectively tried to brush Dean's hands aside. "I'm fine" he repeated.

"Just wanna make sure." Dean continued to check his brother's condition.

Satisfied that all of Sam's ribs were intact, he moved to place a gentle hand on his brother's throat, feeling for any tenderness.

"Dean, I'm fine …really" Sam repeated hoarsely, desperate to reassure his obviously worried brother.

Looking closely at his brother, Dean was relieved to see that his color was improving and he seemed alert and responsive, although his movements were still sluggish. Satisfied that Sam was recovering, he decided that he really needed to move him back into the car.

"Ready to get back in the car Sammy?"

"Yeah …help me." Sam said, struggling weakly to get to his feet.

"I got ya" Dean affirmed, pulling Sam to his feet before gently helping him into the car.

Sam sunk into the familiar seat, resting back with a sigh. It seemed like hours since he was here, yet really, it was closer to minutes. He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him.

Seeing Sam safely settled, Dean closed the passenger door before hurrying to the driver's side and getting back into the car, next to his brother.

"Hospital?" Dean whispered the word aloud to himself, weighing up the need to seek further medical help for his brother.

"Dean no …I'm okay …no hospitals." Sam pleaded in a soft voice, answering Dean's unasked question.

Dean looked at Sam intently as he started the car. Sam's eyes remained closed, but he was obviously still awake. His breathing seemed regular, but Dean could discern a slight shake in Sam's body. He leant over to the back seat and grabbed his jacket, wrapping it gently over his brother.

"Thanks Dean" he murmured, holding the jacket around himself snugly. He felt comforted by the familiar item, relaxing into the warmth and security it provided.

Dean pulled back onto the road, ignoring the slight tremble in his hands as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Dean pulled in to a stop just twenty minutes later, at the first motel he came across. Leaving a now sleeping Sam in the car, he reluctantly left him to go and secure a room.

Although they were less than two hours from Bobby's, he thought it was better to stop for the day. Sam wasn't in the best condition to travel, and if he was completely honest with himself, he could do with a break also. Sam's incident had given him a massive shock and he knew he didn't have the concentration to drive the rest of the way.

Returning a few moments later with room key in hand, Dean moved the car to park it directly in front of their downstairs room. He let Sam sleep as he silently opened the trunk and removed their bags, quickly depositing them in the room.

Returning to the car, he quietly opened the passenger door. "Sammy" he whispered, shaking his brother's shoulder gently. "Sammy …time to wake up."

Sam opened his eyes to look at Dean in confusion. "We there already?"

"Nah …thought we'd get a room …finish the drive tomorrow."

Sam was too weary to question Dean further, wanting to just go back to sleep. He closed his eyes again.

"Come on Sam, help me here." Dean tried to pull and lift Sam from the car. "Come on Sam, you can go back to sleep, in a nice soft bed …soon as we're in the room."

Sam, half asleep stumbled with his brother's support into the room. He tried to wake up, become more alert, but his body was just too weary to cooperate.

"Thanks Dean" he whispered, as he felt the soft bed beneath him.

Dean tenderly set Sam down on the bed, before going to remove his brother's shoes, making him as comfortable as possible. He grabbed a spare blanket from the wardrobe, tucking it around Sam as he slept.

Dean moved to sit on the adjacent bed. He watched Sam sleep, resisting the urge to check his breathing and reassure himself that Sammy was really okay.

**A/N**: This was just going to be a short story – but then, after carrying out a little research whilst writing it, I discovered there can be complications of choking. Well, I love limp Sam, so maybe…


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **Really, I can't express strongly enough how much I appreciate the reviews. As I say, without them …well, I just wouldn't know what to write. They inspire me!

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 3**

Sam woke a couple of hours later to the muted sounds of the television. He looked across at his brother, apparently mesmerized by the program he was watching. It was rare to have the opportunity to watch Dean unobserved, and Sam spent a few moments watching Dean's facial expressions change as he chuckled at something on the TV.

"You watching Oprah again?" he questioned, the words coming out weaker and gruffer than he had anticipated.

Startled, Dean turned his eyes to Sam. "You're awake ...how're you feeling?"

Sam raised a hand to massage his tender throat and coughed lightly to try and clear his throat before answering. "Yeah …throat hurts a bit." Sam tried to sit up and grimaced. "And I ah think a few of my ribs are a bit bruised …but yeah, happy to be breathing …thanks man."

"Yeah well, next time you decide to choke, how 'bout brushing your teeth first, 'cause dude …your breath…"

"Nice Dean."

"I mean really, with that breath, it's a wonder any chick…"

"Didn't stop you."

"Yeah well, I think I'm scarred for life. Its okay for you, you don't remember."

"Seriously Dean, thanks man…I mean, you saved my life." Sam spoke earnestly, his voice full of emotion.

"Ooookay. Think I'll go grab us some dinner." Dean held out his hand in a stop gesture before Sam could interrupt. "Dude, you're having soup. Don't think I could handle another round of mouth to mouth today."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Twenty minutes later Sam slowly sipped from his warm cup of soup as Dean chewed on a slice of pizza.

Sam thought of the bowl of Bobby's chilli that he was missing out on and smiled to himself. Yeah, at least one good thing came out of the day.

"What's so funny" Dean asked, watching the smile light up Sam's face.

"Just thinking about Bobby's chilli."

"Yeah well, we're in luck. I phoned Bobby while you were sleeping …said he'd save some for us …you know, chilli's always better on the second day." Dean grinned at his brother.

"Suppose all that heat could make me forget about my sore throat." Sam gave a weak smile.

"Want me to get ya some ice?"

"Nuh, I'll be right."

Putting his empty soup cup on the bedside table a couple of minutes later, Sam carefully got up from the bed. He felt like crap and really needed a shower. Spying his bag he bent down to retrieve some clean clothes, unable to prevent the small gasp that escaped his mouth as his body throbbed with the painful movement.

Dean looked at Sam sharply, noting the way he gingerly held an arm across his ribs.

"Want me to take another look at those ribs …just to be sure nothings cracked …broken?"

"Nah, they're just bruised. Hot shower should help."

Grabbing his clean clothes, Sam walked slowly to the bathroom, eagerly anticipating a nice, really long hot shower. God, he hoped the water pressure was good.

Stripping off his clothes wasn't as easy as it looked. The shoes, jeans and shirt came off okay, but he looked dejectedly at the t-shirt that was stubbornly resisting all his efforts of removal. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't raise his arms over his head in such a way as to pull of the shirt. His bruised sternum and ribs just weren't giving him the flexibility for the simple maneuver he took so much for granted. He sat down on the edge of the bath tub, in boxers and t-shirt, considering his options. If he had a knife, some scissors, he could have maybe cut it off, but he didn't have either. He tried bending down from his seated position and dragging the shirt off that way, but couldn't get it past his shoulders. Eyeing the robe hook on the back of the door he stood up and leant his back against it to use it to help him slide the shirt upwards. He only succeeded in knocking his hip awkwardly against the door handle. Stupid idea anyway he thought, swearing at himself.

Dean had been staring at the bathroom door for a couple of minutes, wondering why it was taking Sam so long to start the shower. He was starting to become concerned when he heard the thump followed by a quick swear word come from behind the closed door.

Rising quickly to his feet, Dean strode to the door, knowing loudly.

"You okay in there Sam?"

"Yeah."

Dean was standing hesitantly outside the door when it softly opened; emitting Sam still dressed in his boxers and t-shirt.

"Uh Dean …can you help me get my shirt off." Sam looked down at the floor, waiting for Dean to make a snide remark.

It didn't come.

"Yeah, lift you arms." Dean said gently, moving to stand directly in front of Sam.

Sam raised his eyes to Dean, looking for any ridicule, but finding none.

"Can't" he said dejectedly, like a small child.

"Okay, work with me here." Dean said; grabbing the front of the t-shirt and stretching it as he awkwardly maneuvered Sam's arms out of the shirt sleeves before pulling it over his head.

Dean looked at the angry red marks on Sam's chest and rib area, many already turning a distinctive deep purple in color. Although he knew they were a small price to pay to have Sam breathing, he couldn't completely disregard the guilt he felt for having inflicted them.

"Ah shit Sam, you know maybe we should get you checked out by a doctor, make sure I didn't crack a rib or something."

"It's just a few bruises. They'll be fine in a few days. …Uh, thanks Dean" Sam said, indicating the discarded shirt before heading back towards the bathroom.

"Hey, don't call me if you need help with you boxers …dude, there are some lines I just won't cross, even for you." Dean laughed at Sam's retreating back.

"Real caring Dean" Sam threw sarcastically over his shoulder before closing the bathroom door.

Sam turned on the water, adjusting the temperature to a bearable hot, before stripping off his boxes and getting under the blissful spray. He let the water run in rivulets over his back and chest, easing the aches and pains. It was with great reluctance that he got out a few minutes later, wanting to ensure there was plenty of hot water left for his brother. He toweled off quickly and brushed his teeth before dressing in just sweat pants, leaving the fresh t-shirt aside. Just buttoned shirts for a few days, he thought, not wanting a repeat of the earlier episode.

Returning to the bedroom, he found Dean once again watching television, stretched out on his bed. Sam felt self conscious as Dean watched his every movement as he got ready for bed.

Dean watched to make sure that Sam was comfortably settled on the bed before getting up to take his own shower. He threw Sam the TV remote control on his way to the bathroom, and smiled as Sam settled back against the headboard and quickly started flicking channels.

Dean stood under the hot shower, letting the hot spray ease his tension, until the water ran cold. Stepping out, he finished his nightly routine quickly before returning to the bedroom. Sam was in the same position as when he left, although now his head was hanging slightly to the side, eyes closed. Sam was fast asleep.

Gently holding Sam's hips, Dean pulled his brother further down the bed so that he was lying flat, arranging a pillow under his head and pulling the covers up to his shoulders. Sam made a small murmur in protest at the disturbance, but didn't wake.

Settling into his own bed, Dean switched off the TV, deciding to get an early night.

Sam woke a few times in the night, jarred awake when moving aggravated his tender ribs. Each time he'd shift, trying to find a more comfortable position. Finally, when he woke just as dawn was breaking, he gave up his battle for further sleep. Really, he thought, considering how much sleep he'd had yesterday, he was surprised he was actually able to sleep as much as he did last night.

Sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, it took Sam a moment to catch his breath. He dropped his head slightly, trying to take slow deep breaths to ease the slight wheeze in his breathing. He rubbed a hand absently across his bruised aching chest.

Rising slowly from the bed, he grabbed his gear and headed for the bathroom. After yesterday's delay, he was sure that Dean would be eager to make an early start and he wanted to be dressed and ready. After all, it was his fault that they hadn't reached Bobby's place yesterday.

Sam showered and shaved quickly before dressing. Standing at the sink, he slowly brushed his teeth, listening to the sound of Dean moving around in the next room. Rinsing and spitting, he noticed the red tinge in his saliva. Rubbing his tender throat, he found it hard to believe that a few peanut m&m's could've caused him so much grief. Ironic really, considering the danger they purposely put themselves in on an almost daily basis.

**TBC**

**A/N**: Ironic – I actually ate peanut m&m's while writing this – but no blue ones.

**Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **Apologies for the delay in posting – got caught up in life. As always, I hope you enjoy this, and special thanks to everyone who took the time to review the last chapters.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 4**

After grabbing a quick breakfast, they hit the road again, not wanting to further delay their arrival at Bobby's place.

Dean eyed the still half full opened bag of m&m's resting in the middle of the front seat, it's presence a painful reminder of yesterday's events. He wasn't sure that he'd ever be able to look at a bag of m&m's the same way again, and had no desire to actually eat any at the moment, if ever. He grabbed the bag and tossed it towards the back seat, unmindful of spilling the contents. Wouldn't be wanting any more of those he thought, a cringe running down his spine.

Sam watched Dean's actions, smiling when the candy got unceremoniously discarded. It seemed his little mishap might have cured Dean of his lifelong addiction to the chocolate coated peanuts, something that Sam had never thought possible. He was glad to have the reminder removed from sight however, not wishing to relive the memory of choking any time soon.

By mid morning the Impala was pulling up out front of Bobby's place. The place hadn't changed at all since their last visit, if ever. It was still a run down two storey timber home surrounded by cars in various stages of disrepair, many just rusted wrecks, piled high like sculptures adorning the unloved yard.

Having heard them arrive, Bobby emerged from round the side of the house just as they exited the car. Bobby never changed. His grease stained clothes had seen better days and it was obvious he dressed only to please himself. Unkempt hair was as usual hidden beneath a well worn cap and an oily rag hung from the belt holding up his scruffy jeans.

His gruff exterior hid a heart of gold.

"You boys took your sweet time gettin' here."

Sam smiled good naturedly as he exchanged greetings with Bobby and received his usual slap on the back in welcome. He followed a step behind Dean and Bobby as they entered the house, listening as Dean relayed in depth, with much embelishment and plenty of ridicule towards Sam, the choking incident of the day before.

Sam relaxed back in his chair at the timber kitchen table as Bobby poured three large cups of strong coffee. Receiving his cup with a thanks, Sam settled back to listen to Dean and Bobby quickly revert to talking shop, both having a deep love of classic cars. Dean's face showed his animation as he discussed the Impala, and the tune-up he was going to give the car in Bobby's workshop. Hearing that Bobby had already got in the requested parts, Sam could see that Dean was keen to get working straight away.

Sam interrupted the conversation, asking Bobby if he could spend a bit of time looking over his massive book collection. Taking the hint, Bobby acquiesced before herding Dean out to his workshop so that repairs could begin on the Impala. Dean followed Bobby eagerly, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

Sam enjoyed his day looking through Bobby's extensive library, although shifting through books stacked haphazardly in piles on the floor wasn't always easy. Nevertheless, he never knew what he would find as he worked his way through the stacks, making the ordeal rather like a treasure hunt as he often stumbled across an interesting text when moving piles of books aside.

Sam coughed as he moved a particularly large stack of propped books, disturbing the settled dust. He wiped a hand over his face as he tried to catch his breath amid the hazy cloud. Bent over with a hand resting on his thigh for support, he wheezed in the dusty air, coughing as it irritated his sore throat. Moving over to the window, he opened it wide; desperate to infuse some clean air into the room and dispel the dust cloud. Wheezing next to the open window, he tried to breathe the fresh air in deeply, trying hard to catch his breath. Sam coughed a few more times, careful not to put too much pressure on his still tender ribs, until finally he managed to catch his breath. After resting for a moment with his head hanging low, he resumed shifting through the books, careful not to unsettle any further dust piles.

Except for a short break for a sandwich at lunchtime, Sam didn't see Dean again until late afternoon, both having decided by then to call it a day. When Bobby stepped out onto the porch with a few bottles of beer, the brothers each took one gratefully before sitting down in the old wooden chairs and stretching their legs out in front of them. All three men were silent for a few minutes as they took their first few mouthfuls of the cold brew and relished the cold liquid as it washed down their throats.

"Thought you boys might be able to help me out with a small hunt while you're here." Bobby broke the silence.

"Yeah," the brothers spoke in unison.

"What's the job?" Sam asked.

"An hour or so north of here ...couple of forestry workers have been attacked. Weren't killed, just injured."

"Did they say what attacked them?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, well apparently neither were real forthcoming with details, just got themselves patched up and left the area real quick. There was a witness though, and he sprouted off something about the tree attacking. Authorities just thought he was in shock, maybe nuts or something and didn't pay him any notice."

"But you think he was telling the truth?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, over the years, there have been a few attacks in the same area, though this is the first time there have been any serious injuries."

"Any idea what it is?" Dean asked

"Reckon it's a Dryad, though they usually don't cause any harm."

"Dryad?" Sam and Dean repeated.

"Yeah. Dryads are like nymphs …female spirits of nature. They generally preside over the forest; …having a certain tree over which they watch. …It's thought that a Dryad will punish anyone who injures their tree."

"So …what …you reckon the attacks are retaliation for these forestry guys chopping down trees?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, maybe."

Sam and Dean watched as Bobby got up from his chair. "I've got a book around here somewhere," Bobby mumbled, going into the house.

"We could probably go check it out tomorrow …car's finished." Dean stated, looking at Sam.

"Yeah …Dryad …you know, I've never heard of them." Sam stated.

"Here it is" Bobby announced, returning to the porch a moment later, large dusty book in hand. He opened the book to the marked page before reading. "The lives of the Dryads are connected with that of the trees; should the tree perish, then she dies with it."

"So, we just have to find the tree and what …burn it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah …the trick is to find the right tree." Bobby replied.

"Piece of cake." Dean stated.

The upcoming hunt was discussed and planned whilst a few more beers were tossed back, before the afternoon slowly faded to dusk. Grabbing their empties, the men headed inside to pack and organize the gear they'd need for tomorrows hunt. Intending to make an early start just before dawn, they stowed their bags and weapons near the front door to collect on their way out in the morning.

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With an old wooden spoon, Bobby stirred the pot of chili reheating on the stove. Lifting up the wooden spoon, he tasted a small mouthful, testing to see if it was ready. Satisfied it was nearly heated through; he grabbed three bowls and set them out on the table before calling the boys.

Dean entered the kitchen with a bounce in his step; Sam followed more slowly behind, his eyes watching as bobby ladled the chili into the first bowl.

"Just a little bit for me Bobby …I'm not real hungry," Sam requested, moving to pull away a bowl after the first spoonful was ladled in.

Dean let his bowl be filled nearly to the rim before joining Sam at the table. Bobby placed three glasses of water on the table before carrying across his own bowl of chili and joining the brothers.

Dean dug in with gusto, shoveling spoonfuls of the chili into his mouth like it was his last meal. Sam wondered how he was able to eat like that and still manage to breathe. Tentatively taking his own small spoonful, Sam was immediately hit with a mouthful of intense heat, and had to forcefully restrain himself from coughing or gagging. He washed it down with a glassful of water, tears stinging the corner of his eyes. Looking up, he saw that both Bobby and Dean were watching him intently, trying to hide the smiles on their faces. Determined not to give in, Sam continued to methodically take measured mouthfuls, washing down each one with the water until his bowl was empty. He didn't intend to give Dean the satisfaction he was obviously craving.

"Thanks Bobby …that was great" Sam said, his voice a little gruffer than usual.

"There's plenty more…" Bobby offered.

"Nah, thanks …I'm right."

When the meal was finished, the brothers helped Bobby tidy up the kitchen before retiring for the night. Making their way upstairs to the small room they shared when they stayed, Dean collapsed onto one of the single beds, stretching out with his feet dangling over the end.

"I'm beat" Dean stated.

"Yeah well, I've got first shower." Sam replied, kicking off his shoes and grabbing clean clothes, heading down the hallway before Dean had a chance to react.

Secure in the privacy of the bathroom, Sam used the sound of the running shower to disguise his coughing. His throat had been niggling him for a while, but he'd been restraining himself from coughing, not wanting to draw Dean's attention. Now, his throat was killing him, and every cough felt as though he was trying to cough up a lung.

Stepping under the warm water he continued to cough and wheeze, and admitted to himself that he really didn't feel that great.

He quickly wondered whether to mention this to Dean, but hastily dismissed the idea. It was just a cold, and after a good night's rest he should be fine in the morning. No reason to put off a simple hunt.

TBC

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**A/N:** Reviews always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews. I know there have been a few glitches with with the links to this story, but the problem seems to now be fixed. Thanks for persevering.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 5**

Sam kept his eyes tightly closed as his head bumped against the cold glass of the Impala's side window. It was still dark outside, dawn still a good thirty minutes away. He was feeling tired, having had a restless night's sleep. Trying to find a more comfortable position in the cramped front seat of the car was difficult, and as he squirmed around, he though wistfully of his warm bed back at Bobby's place.

Even with his eyes closed, Sam could tell that they were traveling fast. The Impala's engine purred in obvious appreciation of the work Dean had carried out just the day before. He could hear Dean humming along with the music under his breath, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time with the beat. The familiar sounds helped lull him into that place somewhere between awake and asleep.

Dean let Sam nap as he drove quickly towards their destination. In his rear vision mirror he could see Bobby's truck following not too far behind. At their current speed, he anticipated that they should reach their appointed rendezvous point at around dawn. Although he hadn't been keen to get up when it was still dark this morning, the anticipation of the hunt and the knowledge that he'd have the open road almost entirely to himself spurred him into action. He smiled as he hummed, looking forward to the day ahead.

Just as the first rays of sunshine where hitting the car, Dean pulled the Impala off the sealed road, turning onto a rutted dirt forestry road. Actually, he thought, as the tyres dipped into a large pot hole, more like a dirt track. He slowed slightly, not wanting to undo all the good work that had gone into servicing the car the day before.

Sam opened his eyes reluctantly as his head bumped against the window with a little too much force. He realized that they had left the main road, and straightened in his seat, knowing that they would soon be stopping. Glancing behind him, he could see Bobby still following behind.

The dirt track came to an abrupt end in a small clearing, leaving just enough room for Dean to maneuver the car. Quickly turning the car to face the way they had come in, he parked just off to the side of the track, leaving enough room for Bobby to pull in behind him.

Sam and Dean were standing by the trunk of the car retrieving their gear as Bobby got out of his truck and stretched. With the first rays of sunlight just penetrating through the tree branches, this really felt like an idyllic spot. Except for their noise, everything was still, and quiet.

With their gear assembled at their feet, Bobby spread the cumbersome paper map over the trunk of the Impala, his finger running along the line of their intended route as he explained their location to the brothers. They were going to duplicate the trek taken by the forestry workers. Bobby pointed out the walking track visible at the end of the clearing, showing its approximate location on the map.

"We should just need to follow that track for about fifteen minutes or so to get to the spot." Bobby announced.

"How will we know…?" Sam asked

"Well, the track ends after that, so unless we go bush, the tree we're looking for has to be around there somewhere."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Dean picked up his small pack, eager to get started.

Sam picked up his own pack and eased it onto his back. They weren't carrying much, just a few weapons, water, snacks, and most importantly, everything they needed to start a fire to burn the tree. Dean had commandeered the bag containing the lighter fluid and matches, wanting to be the one to start the fire. Sam reluctantly picked up the large axe, noticeably left for him by Dean. Dean might get to light the fire, but it seemed that if there was going to be any chopping to do, that was going to be his job. Fortunately, Bobby was also carrying an axe, so at least he was going to get a little help in that department.

Walking in single file, with Dean at the lead and Sam taking up the rear, they headed off down the track and into the forest. As soon as they entered the track, the canopy of branches overhead blocked out much of the early morning sunlight, making Sam glad that they hadn't arrived any earlier. The track was riddled with tree roots and littered with fallen branches, and it required their full attention to navigate it without tripping in the dappled light.

They walked in silence, each concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. Sam shifted the heavy axe to his other hand as he stepped over a particularly large fallen branch. He was glad that this was only a short trek, as he could already feel the sheen of perspiration beading on his forehead in the crisp morning air. He used his shirt sleeve to wipe it away, but within minutes it had been replaced by more.

Sam noticed that Dean and Bobby were getting a little ahead of him on the track, and he willed his legs to move faster. His breath wheezed in and out as he picked up his pace to catch up to the others, and he struggled to pull in a full lungful of air. As soon as he was again in formation, a few feet behind Bobby, he relaxed his pace and with effort concentrated on controlling his breathing. As a few beads of sweat ran into his eyes, he again absently wiped his shirt across his face.

It was with heartfelt relief that he saw Dean come to a stop, having reached the end of the track. Within a few moments all three were standing in a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by tall trees. Sam looked at the multitude of trees, trying to differentiate between them. They all looked similar, not one standing out in contrast to the others.

"How are we going to know which is the tree?" Sam asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah well, it has to be one of the trees around here. I doubt the forestry workers wandered too far off this track." Bobby replied, turning slowly to look at the trees surrounding them.

"We could just set fire to the whole lot and…" Dean started.

"Dean …we're not starting a major fire."

"I was only saying…"

"No. God, you're like a kid with a stolen box of matches wanting to see the sparks." Sam scolded.

"You boys want to stop bickering and start searching?" Bobby asked.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Sam asked.

"Tree will be old. Since the Dryad only attacks when her tree is threatened, it's likely that the forestry workers harmed the tree in some way …so maybe it would have a few marks on it …maybe it will look a little different …just don't touch any of the trees until we identify it. The Dryad shouldn't attack unless we threaten her tree." Bobby replied, moving towards the edge of the clearing. "Might as well all take a different direction, stay within shouting distance, and call if you find anything."

Dean looked at the ominous forest, not keen on the idea separating, but unwilling to voice his apprehension in front of Bobby.

"Yeah okay." Sam replied quickly, heading towards the opposite end of the clearing from Bobby.

"Yeah" Dean replied. "Yell if you find anything..." he said, directing his statement to Sam.

Sam moved a couple of feet into the forest, his lanky frame instantly obscured by the tall trees. Spying a large rock, he eased himself down onto it, taking the opportunity for a few moments unobserved rest. Resting his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head down low, drawing in a much needed lungful of air. He felt really congested, and knew that when Dean eventually found out, he would give him a lot of crap about coming down with the flu in the middle of summer.

Using the axe handle to lever himself up, Sam raised himself on heavy feeling legs. He scanned his surroundings, before moving off to check out the nearby vicinity for the 'possessed' tree. Sam smiled to himself when he thought about looking for a 'possessed tree' realizing how bizarre his life had become.

After twenty minutes of searching, Sam was starting to think that the whole exercise was futile. All the trees looked the same to him, and the more trees he looked at, the more alike they became, all blending together into one large mass of forest. Every few minutes Dean would yell out to him and Bobby, demanding a response that they were all okay. It was reassuring to know that although he couldn't see another living soul and felt quite alone, Dean and Bobby were really just a call away.

"Sam, Bobby, find anything yet?" Dean yelled into the silence.

"Nah, still looking." Bobby yelled back, continuing to move systematically through the undergrowth.

"No, nothing yet." Sam yelled, pausing in his search.

Sam had lost all enthusiasm for this hunt. He wanted nothing more than to head back to the car and call it a day, even though it was still early morning. He was tired and thirsty.

Sam perused his surroundings.

Nothing.

Nothing but trees.

And more trees.

God, he was starting to hate trees.

Resting the axe against the closest tree, he eased the pack from his back, quickly retrieving the bottle of water from within. He gulped a few mouthfuls of the water down thirstily. Then, pouring a little into his cupped hand, he splashed it across his face in an effort to cool himself off. Pulling up his shirt hem, he used it to wipe down his damp face, before resting his head in his hand for a moment. He took a few wheezy breaths, knowing that he had to pull himself together and resume his search.

Sam squatted down and returned the water bottle to the backpack, zippering it closed. Just as he was about to rise, he got the eerie feeling that he was being watched. Crouching, balanced on the balls of his feet, hands resting on his thighs, he raised his head and looked at the area in front of him, but saw nothing. The creepy feeling continued, and he rose tentatively to his feet before spinning around quickly to look behind.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw the Dryad, a waif like creature that almost seemed to blend into the tree beside her. Green eyes stood out in stark contrast to the bark colored skin, and they were staring straight at him. The Dryad looked down, and Sam followed the direction of her eyes. He watched, rooted to the spot as she easily lifted the axe that he had left resting against the tree trunk. She turned her eyes again to Sam.

The Dryad looked at him intently, not making a sound, as she moved purposefully in his direction.

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**A/N: Reviews, criticisms, ideas, suggestions …always appreciated and welcomed.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **As always, thank you for the reviews. I check for them after each chapter is posted - they encourage me to continue.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 6**

Sam stood, silent and still for a moment as the Dryad advanced towards him. The waif like creature effortlessly held the large axe in one hand, letting it dangle at her side as she moved steadily forward.

Sam took a couple of steps backwards, belatedly realizing that the Dryad not only had his axe, but that now his backpack lay on the ground, between him and the creature. He was weaponless.

"Dean …Bobby" he yelled, continuing to back away from the creature.

The Dryad continued towards him, slowly but steadily, as if time was of no importance. He was reluctant to take his eyes off her, as he retreated, trying to maintain the distance between them.

"Sammy …Sam" he could hear Dean and Bobby yelling his name and hear the thrashing undergrowth as they made their way in his direction.

"Dean" he yelled again, a tinge of panic in his voice as he contemplated whether he should just turn and run.

Eyes still on the creature, he continued to back away, brushing against tree trunks and branches in his haste.

Sam's foot stepped back, and hit empty air. He tried to grab the tree by his side to steady himself, but his body was already too off balance. His frantic hands tried desperately to clutch at the surrounding branches, but he was unable to prevent his downward plunge.

"Dean" he yelled desperately as he fell, wondering where his brother was. It was his last coherent thought before everything went dark.

Sam's limp body tumbled awkwardly backwards into the shallow ditch.

No hands reached out to shield him from the sharp branches he brushed against as he fell.

No hands braced his body for the impact as it came to a shuddering stop at the bottom of the ditch.

No hands protected his side from the protruding tree root.

No hands prevented his head from making a final resting place against the smooth rock.

"Sammy" Dean yelled as he sprinted in the direction of Sam's last yell. He could hear Bobby also rushing through the undergrowth. He felt panic wash over him when Sam didn't reply.

"Sammy" he called again desperately.

No reply.

Dean came to a shuddering halt as he spied Sam's backpack lying on the ground. He glanced around frantically, but couldn't see his brother. Within moments, Bobby reached his side.

"We gotta find him Bobby." Dean muttered, removing the hunting knife from his belt.

Bobby nodded in reply. Instinctively, both men moved in opposite directions scoping out the immediate vicinity for any sign of Sam or the Dryad.

It took only a moment for Bobby to locate the discarded axe lying on its side in the undergrowth.

"Dean" he quietly called, bringing the younger hunter to his side within seconds.

Seeing the axe, Dean moved slowly forward, knife held skillfully in front of him, Bobby at his side.

"Come on. Come on. Where are you Sammy?" Dean chanted in his head as he crept steadily forward through the forest.

It felt like an eternity later that Dean saw his brother's prone form lying in the bottom of the ditch. Sam was positioned awkwardly on his side, his body twisted amongst the branches and leaves at the bottom of the ditch. Quickly sheathing his knife, he jumped down to land at his brother's side.

"Sam …Sammy …can you hear me?" He whispered, placing a hand on his brother's neck to check his pulse.

Reassured that Sam's pulse was strong, even though it was a little fast, Dean went about checking his brother for other injuries. Starting at Sam's head, Dean easily saw the bruise already forming where his head was resting against the side of a rock. Moving his fingers tentatively over the area, he was relieved to see that the skin was not broken, and hoped that the impact had not been too hard. Running his hands carefully down the rest of Sam's body, Dean took care not to move him. As his hand ran along Sam's side, he pulled it back quickly to inspect the wetness he felt. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the dark red blood now coating his fingers.

He looked up to Bobby, who was still standing watch at the top of the ditch.

Bobby saw the blood coating Dean's fingers and grimaced.

Moving his hand back down, Dean touched Sam's side carefully, his movements eliciting a painful moan from Sam. As Sam, barely conscious, tried to move away from Dean's prying fingers, he was forced to put a heavy hand on his shoulder to hold him still.

"Hey Sammy, you with me?"

Dean got another moan in response, as Sam continued to twist restlessly.

"No Sam, don't move."

Sam opened his eyes and tried to focus on the blurring figure of his brother in front of him. As he slowly gained full consciousness, the pain radiating through his body made itself known in one giant rush. He moaned deeply as he tried to breath through the throbbing in his head and burning in his side. As his focus gradually returned, so did his memory and he glanced around fervidly for the Dryad.

"Dean" he gasped, as a sharp pain tore through his side. "The Dryad, I saw it …it was here." Sam closed his eyes, resting for a moment, knowing that he'd passed on the important information to Dean. He really didn't have the energy to do anything else.

"Hey Sam, open you eyes …you have to stay awake." Dean ran a hand across Sam's brow, grateful when his brother's eyes opened again.

Dean continued to check Sam for other injuries. "Sam, tell me where it hurts," he instructed as he moved capable hands down Sam's legs.

"Just my head …and side" he answered, mentally assessing his injuries as he made small hesitant movements.

"Yeah, looks like your head landed on a rock and you landed on a branch. Hey Sammy, next time you decide to take a swan dive, try picking somewhere a little cushier." Dean tried to inject some humor into the situation, but Sam just smiled limply back.

"It's Sam."

"Think you're ready to find somewhere softer to take a nap then Sam?"

"Yeah, help me up."

Sam held out a hand towards Dean, knowing that he would need his brother's help to get back on his feet. If he had his way, he'd just lie here a little longer. It wasn't that uncomfortable, and the effort to move seemed just too great. However, he knew Dean wouldn't let him rest in peace here, so he decided to do things Dean's way. This time.

Sam couldn't stop the groan from escaping as Dean grabbed his hand and gently pulled him to a sitting position. Dean was at his side in an instant as his vision went blurry again and he started to topple back. Dean put a strong arm at his shoulders, supporting his weight as he dropped his head and took quick shallow breaths as he tried to regain his grip on full consciousness.

"Take it slow" Dean advised, as if they had all the time in the world. As if they weren't in the middle of a hunt.

Sam looked into the concerned face of his brother and nodded.

A few moments later, he felt Bobby at his other side.

"Okay Sam, up we get," Dean said, as he and Bobby each hooked and arm under his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet.

Sam wished they'd have given him a little more warning. He'd only just mastered the art of sitting without falling, and the sudden shift to his feet left him reeling. He was aware that the grips under his arms tightened as he staggered on his feet, head hanging uselessly from his neck.

You right Sam?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah." He swallowed back his nausea.

Sam tried to help Dean and Bobby as they slowly helped him climb out of the ditch, but the signals from his brain didn't seem to be reaching his limbs, and he staggered around uselessly. Dean and Bobby ended up supporting most of his weight as they moved out and away from the shallow ditch.

When they reached the spot where the axe had been dropped, Dean and Bobby came to a stop. Sam raised his head and looked around the area, his throbbing head making focusing difficult.

Sam pointed out the tree that he had originally rested the axe against. The tree he though was the one they were searching for. He explained briefly to Dean and Bobby what had happened as they all stood looking at the tree. Although the tree was large, it looked similar to the ones surrounding it.

"You know, I'm not sure if the Dryad was going to actually attack me, or was just trying to scare me away …I mean it had plenty of time to …when I was knocked out in the ditch it could have…" Sam didn't want to finish his sentences, his close predicament becoming so much more real if spoken out loud.

"Sam, we're just going to rest here for a moment, so I can check your side."

Dean and Bobby lowered Sam to the ground, resting his back against a rock. As Dean reached down to move Sam's blood soaked shirt away, Bobby continued to watch the tree and keep a look out for the Dryad.

Sam watched as Dean uncovered his side. He had a jagged tear a few inches long where he'd made impact with the tree branch. Although it didn't look that deep, it was bleeding profusely. Dean took a bottle of water out of his backpack and poured some over the wound, washing away the blood. Fresh blood quickly welled up to take its place. Grabbing the first aid box from his pack, Dean opened the bottle of antiseptic and held it over the wound.

Sam clenched his fists in anticipation of the pain to come.

"This might sting a little" Dean announced as he poured the liquid over the open wound.

"No shit. …Oh God." Sam's knuckles turned white and his eyes squeezed tightly closed, unable to prevent the stray tear from escaping. He took small gasping breaths as he tried to breath through the excruciating pain.

Sam felt the cool liquid running down his side, pooling uncomfortably around the waistband of his jeans. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean.

Dean opened a pack of gauze and removed a wad, pressing it firmly onto Sam's wound to stop the bleeding.

Sam watched; feeling slightly detached now from the whole experience. Things were starting to get a little blurry again and he concentrated once more on breathing, knowing he needed to remain conscious.

Dean held the gauze firmly on Sam's side for a few minutes before exchanging the blood soaked wad for a fresh piece. Pressing it down firmly, he placed Sam's hand over the gaze to hold it in place before he grabbed some tape and firmly strapped the gauze in place to seal the wound. Dean pulled Sam's bloody shirt back down over the bandage.

"Okay Sam, all done. Just stay there alright." Dean stated, moving to join Bobby who was standing patiently a few feet in front of Sam, keeping watch diligently.

Sam nodded. He doubted he could move even if he wanted to, which he definitely didn't. He grabbed Dean's water bottle and took a small sip before leaning his head back against the rock. He didn't know whether he wanted to throw up or pass out. He swallowed convulsively, keeping the nausea at bay. With determination, he kept his eyes open, focused, watching his brother and Bobby.

Dean and Bobby surveyed the tree standing tall in front of them. Both were wondering the best way to tackle the Dryad, whilst keeping Sam safe. They knew that Sam was in no position to help them, and would have no strength to defend himself if need be.

"You distract the Dryad, I'll burn the tree." Dean announced decisively.

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**Yes please, click on the tab - reviews, criticisms, ideas, suggestions …always appreciated and welcomed.**

**Seriously - review PLEASE.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **As always, thank you for the reviews, I can't tell you how much it means that you take the time to comment.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 7**

Bobby looked at the tree, silently assessing their options. He had to agree with Dean. Sam was now out of the hunt, and they'd have to tackle this one on their own, at the same time protecting Sam. Looking back at the fallen Winchester, he could see Sam watching them through slightly glazed eyes.

He was hesitant to agree with Dean, but knew that chopping down the tree would take too long with just one person wielding the axe, so fire seemed to be their only option. It was going to be tricky though, setting a fire in the dry forest without starting a major blaze.

Dean shifted through his pack, removing a large serrated hunting knife. Picking up Sam's discarded axe, he took the few steps back to his brother's side. He rested the axe handle along Sam's thigh, within easy reach, and placed the knife in his brother's hand, making sure he had a firm grip.

"Just in case…" he softly stated before returning to his backpack.

Next he removed the tin of lighter fluid and box of matches. He also felt his pocket for the lighter he always kept there. He looked at Bobby and saw him armed with his own axe, pistol tucked into the back of his jeans and hunting knife sheathed by his waist. Bobby looked like he meant action.

"You ready?" Dean asked unnecessarily.

"Yeah, let's do this."

Dean cautiously approach the tree, Bobby a few steps behind keeping a keen watch. Dean stopped a foot short of the tree, and glanced around, uneasy at having got this far without sighting the Dryad. It seemed too easy, and he knew from experience that there was no such thing as 'too easy', automatically raising his level of alert. He somehow always felt more comfortable with his foe in sight.

He spared a quick glance at Bobby before unscrewing the cap to the tin of lighter fluid. He walked around the tree, splashing the fluid liberally along the tree truck as he circled.

"Bobby …anything?"

"Nah, nothing."

Having completed his circumference of the tree, Dean dropped the near empty tin of lighter fluid to the ground. The sound echoed around them for a moment, before everything was eerily still and silent. No rustling in the undergrowth, no birds chirping in the branches above, no breeze. Just silence.

Dean reached into his jeans pocket for the box of matches. He was readying to strike the first match when he felt the sharp burst of wind push past him, forcing him to drop the unlit match and take a step back.

"Dean" Bobby yelled at him, a fraction too late.

Dean looked up in time to see the waif like creature push him forcefully backwards again, causing him to stumble as he attempted to regain his balance. The Dryad was coming at him again just as Bobby moved quickly into the space between them, confronting the Dryad with the axe.

Swinging the axe wildly, Bobby moved aggressively in the Dryad's direction, giving Dean the opportunity to regain his balance and move out of the way.

Dean moved towards the tree, box of matches in hand.

Before he had the chance to strike the next match, again the wind whipped through the area, rustling up the fallen leaves on the ground and shaking the branches of the surrounding trees. Dean struck the match, but it blew out instantly. He tried again, repeatedly, with the same result. "Dammit" he muttered, tossing the box of matches to the ground and reaching into his pocket for the coveted lighter. He retrieved it, just in time to see Bobby sailing through the air to land with a definitive thump a few feet from Sam. "God dammit" he thought again, as Bobby lay unmoving and the Dryad moved steadily towards his position. He pulled the knife from his belt and held it in front of himself defensively.

Sam dragged himself over to Bobby's side while maintaining a watch over Dean. Feeling Bobby's steady pulse with relief and blinking eyes, Sam hoped that the older man had just had the wind knocked out of him.

Moving around the tree, Dean tried to keep the trunk between himself and the Dryad. Desperately, with the knife grasped firmly in one hand and the lighter in the other, he flicked the lighter, trying to maintain a flame. Each time, the wind blew it out. Realizing that his only option was to drop the knife to shield the flame, he reluctantly sheathed his weapon.

It was the opportunity the Dryad had been waiting for. That split second when he looked down to sheath his knife was all it too. Just that fraction of a moment when his attention strayed from his opponent.

"Dean, look out" Sam yelled, seeing the Dryad now approaching Dean at speed.

Dean saw the Dryad in front of him, but couldn't react fast enough to move out of the way. He felt his body being lifted with unnatural strength before being tossed aside. Dean hit the nearby tree with force, his body slumping down to land at its base. He looked up to see the Dryad coming for him again, and he tried to shrink back against the tree trunk. Realizing he'd dropped the lighter sometime during his flight through the air, he reached instead for his knife, holding it in front of himself protectively and he slowly rose to his feet, back against the tree.

"Yeah bitch, bring it on," he muttered as the creature steadily approached.

Sam watched in horror as the Dryad moved purposefully towards Dean. Shaking Bobby rigorously, he was unable to fully rouse the older man. Seeing no alternative, he abandoned the knife and axe and used his hands to push himself to his feet. Ignoring his wavering vision, he moved in a staggering fashion towards the fuel doused tree, eyes keenly searching for the discarded box of matches. It was luck, and nothing else, that he staggered and fell a foot short of the tree, the box of matches on the ground in front of him. Lying prone on the forest floor, he cupped his hand around the matchbox as he struck a match. Knowing that he didn't have time for a second chance, he used the lit match to light the other matches in the box, before reaching out and tossing the entire box the short distance to the tree trunk.

Heat infused his face as the tree trunk lit up with a whoosh. He rolled away, trying to put a little distance between himself and the flames. Raising his face, he desperately sought out his brother, panicked as he looked at the now empty space where he had last seen Dean.

Desperation drove him as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, again. Aiming towards Deans last position, he staggered away from the burning tree, narrowly avoiding the charred and smoking branch that smashed to the ground next to him. He only managed a few steps before he was forced to bend over, clutching his side and struggling to draw in air. The smoke seemed overly thick as it surrounded him, his vision blurred and lungs burned as he became completely disorientated. He turned, swaying, no longer sure in which direction to move. Taking a small step away from the burning tree, he stumbled, and saw the ground rushing towards him as collapsed.

"Sam" Dean yelled, rushing towards his swaying brother, reaching him just as he crashed towards the rough ground. Grabbing his brother's shirt, he just managed to slow his descent, lowering him the final few feet to the ground.

"Dean …you're okay?" Sam asked, stubbornly holding on to consciousness.

"Yeah …can you get up …I need to check on Bobby." Dean grabbed the front of Sam's shirt tightly, not waiting for a reply. He couldn't leave his brother here, so close to the burning tree. The Dryad might be destroyed, but the fire was still burning. Pulling his brother up took all of his strength, and Dean quickly wrapped Sam's arm over his shoulder as soon as he was upright, not wanting him to take another nosedive. Hooking his other hand in the waistband at the back of Sam's jeans for extra support, Dean was careful not to touch his injured side. He moved forward, dragging Sam along with him.

Bobby pulled himself up to a sitting position as the Winchester boys approached, burning tree in the background. He knew they needed to make their way out of the forest without delay, in case the fire spread to the surrounding trees.

Sam and Dean dropped wearily to the ground beside Bobby, pleased to see him awake and alert.

"You okay?" Dean asked with concern.

"Not the first time I've been tossed around and won't be the last. ...takes more than that to keep me down."

"Ah Dean, what ...what happened …I saw it coming towards you…" Sam asked quietly, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah, soon as you lit up that tree, it burst into flames …ah, thanks for that Sam."

"Looked like you needed a little help."

"Yeah well, next time I order you to stay put, you better stay …"

"Order me?" Sam spluttered indignantly. "I saved your arse."

"I had a plan …I was just waiting …getting the timing right."

"Yeah right, you… you…." Sam stopped arguing, suddenly overcome with a fit of coughing. Sam held his injured side tightly as each racking cough caused pain to radiate through the length of his body.

Dean thumped his back gently trying to help him regain his breath.

Bobby handed him a bottle of water and he took it greedily, taking a few quick gulps, slowly bringing his breathing under control.

"Think its time to head out." Bobby stated, not one to waste words. Rising, pack already in hand, he looked pointedly at the flaming tree and waited for the brothers to spur into action.

Dean got to his feet, reaching down to offer a hand to his brother. Although reluctant to move, Sam took the offered assistance, rising slowly to his own feet. He stood still for a moment as Dean held his arm firmly, offering support if needed. Relieved that his legs were holding him steady, he slowly raised his head, looking directly into Dean's concerned eyes.

"I'm right," he said with all the conviction he could muster, dropping his arm from Dean's firm grasp.

Leaving his brother, Dean collected both their packs, electing to leave the axes behind. They could be easily replaced and none of them were up to carrying the extra weight. Swinging a pack over each shoulder, Dean joined his brother, as they headed out of the forest following Bobby. Bobby always had a great sense of direction, and Dean had no hesitation in following the seasoned hunter through the dense undergrowth.

Walking at his brother's side, Sam held his hand out to Dean, moving to grab his pack off his shoulder.

"Nah, I got it Sammy."

"Dean, I can carry my own pack."

"Yeah well, just concentrate on walking. I'm happy to carry your pack, but man, I don't wanna haul your heavy arse out of here as well."

"Whatever." Sam replied, too tired to continue the pointless argument. He did as Dean suggested, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

Concentrated on keeping up.

Concentrated on breathing.

Concentrated on staying conscious, even as his vision blurred at the edges.

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**A/N: Press the tab below – you know you want to comment.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**A/N: **As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 8**

Dean practically dragged his brother the last few yards back to the Impala. Sam had become increasingly unsteady on his feet, wavering on the narrow track. When Dean grabbed his brother's shirt between the shoulder blades, guiding him, prodding him forward, he heard no protest. He could hear Sam wheezing for breath as he struggled along, and Dean was becoming increasingly worried about his brother's injuries. He already knew that Sam had a concussion, but really needed to get them back to the car so that he could check the wound on Sam's side.

With relief, Dean propped his sagging brother against the side of the car. Sam's head hung forward with his arms dangling uselessly at his sides. He was breathing rapidly, short raspy breaths.

Bobby was already stowing his own gear in to his truck. Dean listened blatantly as Bobby retrieved his cell phone and dialed the authorities, reporting the sighting of smoke in the forest. He knew they now needed to be well out of the area before the fire fighters arrived.

Fishing his keys out of his pocket, Dean unlocked the car, careful to leave a bracing hand on Sam's sagging frame.

Shrugging the two packs off his shoulder he carelessly tossed them onto the back seat before easing Sam down to sit in the front passenger seat. Bobby quickly appeared by his side, ready to offer a hand if needed.

"How's he looking Dean?"

"I'm okay." Sam answered.

"He wasn't asking you Sam …lets take a look at your side." Dean said, already pushing aside Sam's blood stained shirt.

Dean looked at the bandaged wound, relieved to see that it didn't seem to be bleeding too much and the gauze was still firmly in place. Unwilling to uncover the wound unnecessarily, he decided to leave it until they got back to Bobby's, knowing that he couldn't do much more now that apply a fresh bandage anyway.

Dropping Sam's shirt back in place, he grasped Sam under the chin, looking closely at his eyes.

"Dean …personal space man."

Sam definitely had a concussion Dean noted, taking in his unequal pupils and glazed stare. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Too many" Sam replied, closing his eyes. He wasn't going to sleep, not really, he thought; just needed to take a siesta for a few moments.

Releasing his grip on Sam's chin, Dean watched as his brother rested his head back on the seat and his eyes shuttered closed.

"Hey Sam …Sam …don't go to sleep Sam." He shook his shoulder gently until Sam's eyes lazily opened again to gaze back at him in confusion.

Dean stood up and closed the passenger door before turning to Bobby, visually assessing the older hunter for injuries.

"Bobby, you were out of it for a bit yourself back there. Want to drive back with us and we'll collect your truck later?"

"Thanks, but no …I'm right. Not leaving the truck here …if the wind picks up, no telling if the fire will spread. …Anyway, I already called the authorities, you know…"

Dean didn't argue with the other man. He knew how important the truck was to Bobby and knew he wouldn't leave it willingly in the path of a potential fire or let it fall into the hands of the authorities.

"I'll follow you. Just pull over if you need a break …and ah thanks Bobby …for back there." Dean said seriously, gratitude obvious. Then he grinned. "Who would have thought, all this fun, and its not even lunch time."

"Ah yeah …get driving Dean; I'm not waiting for you."

Dean climbed into the driver's seat, immediately checking that Sam was still awake. Two glazed eyes, barely open, stared back at him. He reached into the back seat and retrieved a plastic take-out bag, emptying it of the old food wrappers. He handed it to Sam. "Don't hurl on the seats."

"Very funny Dean. Can we go now?"

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If Sam had had the energy, he would have jumped for joy when they finally pulled up outside Bobby's place. As it was, he sat in the car, trying to summon the energy to get out. He'd struggled to stay awake for the entire trip, only Dean's poking and shoving had prevented him from nodding off. That and the nausea he had to fight to keep down, not wanting to cause Dean to have to pull over, or make use of the plastic bag. It just wasn't worth the ammunition it would give Dean for future ridicule. Now, he just longed for the pull of sleep to give him some respite from the nausea and pain.

Dean moved around the car to help heave his pale brother out, noting that he made no sign of making a move by himself. With limited assistance from Sam, he supported his brother's weight and guided him into the house, depositing him on the worn couch.

Sam sunk into the cushions in relief. Finally, they were back and he could rest. Without further thought, he closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.

After observing his brother for a few minutes, Dean let Sam sleep on the couch while he went to find Bobby and get the first aid kit. Following the sounds of clattering crockery, he found Bobby in the kitchen, a pot of coffee already on to brew. He breathed in the coffee aroma, perched on the table and waited while Bobby poured him a mug. He took a few moments to savor the first mouthful of the strong brew.

"Sam okay?" Bobby asked.

"Already asleep. I'm just gonna check that gash in his side …it'll probably need a few stitches. We'll have to wake him up every hour or so …he's got a pretty nasty concussion."

Bobby opened the kitchen cabinet and pulled out the well equipped first aid box. Carrying his cup of coffee in one hand and the first aid supplies in the other, he followed Dean, placing the first aid kit on the floor next to the couch.

Sam woke up when Dean pulled of the adhesive bandage from his side. Biting his lip, he tried to remain passive as Dean cleaned the wound again before suturing the deeper part of the cut. It hurt like a bitch, and he could feel each thread of the needle as it punctured his already tender skin. It was with gratitude that he accepted the glass of water and two pain pills that Bobby handed him when it was over.

"Think you can make it up the stairs?" Dean asked.

The thought of lying flat in a bed was enough to impel Sam to pull together his remaining strength. Rising slowly, he stood stiffly, raising a hand to his throbbing head. He could feel the blood pumping through his skull with every beat of his heart, and he couldn't hide his grimace of pain. Assured by the fact that he was standing unassisted, Sam made his was to the stairs unaided, although Dean stayed attentively by his side. Gripping the banister tightly, he gradually made his way up the stairs and to the bedroom, sinking down quickly on the unmade bed. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

Dean took of his brother's shoes and covered him with a throw rug before leaving him to sleep.

Dean joined Bobby again in the kitchen, pouring himself a fresh mug of steaming coffee. After the grueling day, he needed a few moments to rest and recuperate his strength. Perching on the edge of the bench, he looked at the experienced older hunter, reassuring himself that Bobby had come out of the hunt relatively unscathed.

"You know, we were lucky …I just don't get it …the Dryad had more than enough time to reach Sam before we got there …and after it threw me against that tree, I thought it…" Dean stopped, confusion invading his train of thought.

"I don't think they're inherently aggressive …just protective. You know, just protecting the tree …kinda like a mother protecting her young."

"Yeah …" Dean continued to ponder those thoughts for a few more minutes, before more pressing needs took over. "Hey Bobby, got anything to eat …any cookies?"

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Sam slept off and on for most of the day. Dean woke him at regular intervals to ensure that he didn't have any lasting effects from the concussion, except for the headache and bruise. Although he declined lunch, as dinner time eventually approached, he decided he needed to get up for a while, his body becoming stiff after the day in bed.

He felt grimy as he sat up in the bed, realizing that he still had on the bloody shirt and dirty jeans that he'd put on that morning. Grabbing a change of clothes, he headed into the bathroom to wash up and change.

Discarding his blood stained shirt to a corner of the room, Sam inspected the area around his wound, relieved to see that it did not seem red or infected. Stripping off his jeans, he kicked them onto the floor to join his shirt before turning towards the sink. With relish, he splashed cold water over his face, letting the droplets run down his torso and back. Although he didn't want to take a shower and get his wound wet yet, he liberally splashed water over his face and head, washing away as much of the sweat and dirt as he could before toweling himself off.

Assessing himself in the bathroom mirror, he could see the slight fevered glow to his skin. He knew that Dean would pick up on it. The bruises on his chest still stood out vividly against his skin, and he felt along each rib, around each bruise, making sure that he'd done no further damage. He was thankful that his tender ribs weren't really feeling any worse, even after the mornings tumble. At the end of the day, he knew he'd been lucky to escape relatively unscathed. Now, he just needed to shake off the flu which seemed intent on getting the better of him.

He dressed lightly in fresh jeans and a t-shirt before heading downstairs to find Dean and Bobby.

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His brother and Bobby were seated around the kitchen table nursing more coffee when he entered. Sliding out a chair, already feeling the need to sit down, he joined the other men at the table. Two pairs of eyes stared at him, assessing.

"I'm awake," he announced unnecessarily under the uncomfortable examination.

"What clued you into that Sam?" Sarcasm dripped from Dean's words.

Sam pointedly ignored Dean, instead turning to Bobby. "You okay?"

"Yeah …hard head," came the gruff reply.

"How you feeling Sam?" Dean inquired this time sincerity in the question.

"Better."

Dean gave Sam the _'tell the truth look', _eyebrows raised in question, waiting for a more in-depth response.

"Better than earlier" Sam continued under Dean's scrutiny. "But I think …maybe I'm coming down with the flu." Sam's voice was raspy, an obvious wheeze in his breaths as he drew in air between words.

"How's your side feel?"

"Bit sore …but it doesn't look infected …ah …thanks for stitching me up man."

Dean placed a hand on Sam's forehead. "You feel a bit hot …hey Bobby, you got a thermometer?"

Sam brushed Dean's hand away. "I'll be right, just need a couple of Tylenol or something."

"You boys wanna play Florence Nightingale in the other room …I'm gonna make us all some supper."

"Come on Sam, I want to change the dressing on your side anyway." He threw Bobby a glare before getting up from his chair.

Sam followed Dean back to the couch, sitting down and lifting up his t-shirt as instructed so that Dean could remove the bandage.

Dean was relieved to see that Sam's stitches were holding well, and that the wound and surrounding area looked clean and uninfected. Looking around in the first aid kit, he fished out the thermometer and stuck it under Sam's tongue before opening a bottle of antiseptic.

Sam struggled to hold back his sharp intake of breath and keep the thermometer in his mouth as Dean swabbed over the wound with antiseptic.

Dean meticulously wiped antiseptic over the area before covering it with a fresh bandage and pulling Sam's t-shirt back down into place. Noting the slight sheen of sweat on his brother's forehead, he removed the thermometer from his mouth, keen to see the reading.

Relieved to have the thermometer finally removed, Sam leant forward, arm wrapped around his middle as he coughed rigorously. When the fit was finally over, he kept his position, wheezing and trying to regulate his breathing. Dean's arm slipped behind him, wrapping around his back, both supportive and comforting.

Dean eased his brother up to lean his head against the back of the couch, giving him clear access to assess his condition. Sam's flushed cheeks stood out in stark contrast to his pale complexion, and his breathing still seemed labored even though the coughing had ceased.

"I don't like this …maybe …you should see a doctor." The last few words were spoken decisively.

"J…Just the flu."

"You're running a fever."

"Yeah …I've got the flu."

"If we see a doc …he could maybe give you some antibiotics or something."

"Just have to let it run its course."

"Nah, that's what drugs are for." Dean felt uneasy with Sam now getting sick on top of his existing injuries. "Yeah …I'll just go tell Bobby, then we'll head into town." Dean said with conviction.

"Dean, I'll be okay …I'm just really tired …I don't want to go out again today." Sam pleaded. He really felt like crap, but the thought of having to drive into town and queue to see a doctor filled him with dread. Seeing that Dean wasn't backing down, he raised weary eyes and added a final plea.

"_Please Dean_."

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**A/N: Reviews are love. **

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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Masses of thanks and hugs of appreciation for the reviews. Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, but I had a spot of writers block on this story. All's well now though - I bought a new packet on m&m's today for inspiration.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 9**

Dean looked into his brother's pleading eyes, trying to remember how old Sam had been when he'd perfected that _tone_, that _look_. It got him what he wanted every time, and his brother knew it. He used it shamelessly to his advantage.

"Okay" he said reluctantly. "We'll wait …but …shit Sam …you almost died a couple of days ago …I …I just don't …don't want to take any chances …that scared the living crap out of me …okay."

"Yeah, I know."

"If you start feeling any worse …if your fever goes up …whatever …we're going …no arguments."

"Uh hu …'kay Dean." Sam murmured, wearily closing his eyes.

"I'm not kidding Sam."

" …mmm …'kay."

You gonna be right if I go help Bobby with dinner?"

"Yeah …just gonna rest for a bit."

Dean stood by the side of the couch for a few minutes, watching his brother relax into a light doze. He curbed his disquiet with reluctance, not happy that his proposal to see a doctor had been so categorically dismissed or that he'd been so skillfully outmaneuvered by his brother. He hated seeing Sam looking so pale and fevered, but even worse, he hated standing by and not being able to do anything about it. He just hoped that Sam was right – a little more rest and he'd be on the swift road to recovery.

With little enthusiasm, he left his brother to rest and sought out Bobby in the kitchen.

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The pungent aroma of frying food hit Sam head-on as he woke up from a restless sleep a little while later. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat as he contemplated the food being prepared.

He wasn't hungry.

A bead of sweat rolled down his face, paused on his upper lip, then continued on its way. He didn't have the energy to swat it away. Another bead quickly followed the first, and when it hit his lip he stuck out his tongue, tasting the salty drop of moisture. He let the third and forth drops travel over his face unheeded, and they were quickly followed by another and another. He knew his fever had risen since he'd been asleep. He could feel it burning through his body.

His throat felt parched and tender and he was having trouble catching his breath. His short shallow gasps sounded loud to his own ears, so he tried to breathe slower, deeper, steadier. He couldn't seem to inhale enough air and his straining lungs protested against his bruised ribs.

He felt like crap.

Raising a heavy hand to his forehead, he wiped away the beads of sweat, swallowed the bile in his throat, and raised his head.

His eyes roamed the undulating room, searching for his brother.

"Dean" he gasped, disturbed by the weak sound of his own voice.

He tried calling again, but his voice was just a whisper, barely audible above his wheezing breath. He could hear his brother in the other room, yet the distance felt almost insurmountable.

Bracing his hand on the arm of the couch, he pushed himself to his feet. He needed to get to Dean.

The room tilted and he flung his hand out, blindly seeking any form of support to try and regain his balance. Large feet planted firmly on the ground didn't stop his body from swaying, refusing to remain upright on determination and willpower alone.

He felt his body crashing back down.

He was powerless to stop it.

He felt the edge of the couch at the back of his knees, and he sank in that direction, flinging his arms wide to control his descent and protect his injured body. His hand connected with the dusty table lamp, but the impact was too quick and outside of his control to prevent. He saw the lamp tip and fall before shattering on the floor below.

The sound of smashing china reverberated around the room.

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Dean removed the chicken pieces from the frying pan, placing them haphazardly onto the chipped serving plate. He licked his greasy fingers with relish before setting the heaped plate in the centre of the table. Unable to resist, he pulled a little piece of crumbed skin off one of the pieces, shoving it into his mouth when Bobby's back was turned.

The sound of breaking china stopped Dean mid track just as his hand was poised, reaching for another taste.

He felt the blood rush through his body, his heat pounding as he raced from the room. Bobby followed close behind.

"Sam!"

Sam looked up as his brother crouched in front of the couch.

He would have answered if he could have caught his breath. Instead, he clutched his chest as he struggled to draw air into his oxygen starved lungs. Each breath came with effort as he dragged in air in short sharp pants, pleading eyes raised to his brother, conveying his need. His desperation.

"Bobby, help me get him to the car" the younger hunter ordered.

Not usually one to take orders, Bobby responded without question.

Sam offered no resistance as Dean and Bobby pulled him upright and held him steady. Each threw one of his arms over their shoulders as they dragged him out the front door, down the steps and into the front seat of the waiting Impala.

"Bobby, stay with him. ...Gotta get the keys."

Bobby stayed by Sam's side as Dean raced back into the house, returning moments later clutching his jacket, keys and wallet.

Bobby closed the passenger side door. "I'll follow you."

Dean gave Bobby a curt nod, indicating both thanks and understating. Without hesitation he climbed into the driver's seat and looked over at Sam. He was pale and sweaty and still struggling for air, the ragged gasps loud and terrifying in the confined space. He lay his jacket protectively over his brother's lap.

Dean cradled the side of Sam's face supporting it and turning it towards him. Sam's glazed eyes opened and Dean looked his brother in the eye.

"Come on Sam …slow and steady …deep breaths…"

He could hear Sam trying to regulate his breathing, but each breath sounded painful and strained.

Trying to help the air flow, he eased Sam's head back to rest against the top of the seat. Sam slumped into the position.

Leaning over, he fastened his brother's seatbelt, securing him in place. Resting a hand on his brother's chest, he started the ignition.

"Come on Sammy …keep breathing …keep breathing …just ...just breathe dammit…" Dean whispered; the words barely discernable over the roar of the engine.

Bobby watched the Impala speed down the driveway.

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**Author's Note: **Will try to post the next chapter soon. Thanks for reading.

**Reviews are love.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **Yes, my muse has returned and I'm finally back on track with this story – or it may have something to do with the copious amount of chocolate I've just consumed. As always, I cannot find words that express enough how much I appreciate the reviews. They are inspiring me to keep writing.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 10**

Dean paced impatiently, his boots wearing a beaten path on the stained linoleum waiting room floor. He put his own tiredness aside as he walked, momentarily absorbed by the repetitive motion. The glass sliding door swished open, and he stopped, raised his eyes, searching, hoping for answers. His shoulders slumped as another name was called.

He glanced across at Bobby who hadn't moved from his uncomfortable position on the plastic chair, surrounded by anxious relatives, whining kids and a couple of insolent teenagers. Bobby retained his position despite the jostling, knockings and noisy commotion. He seemed oblivious to the surroundings that were increasingly fraying Deans barely held patience. Eating away at his sanity.

Thirty minutes.

They'd been waiting in this crowded room for thirty minutes already without any word.

It felt like an eternity.

He'd been able to stay with Sam at first, when he'd been laid on a gurney and the nurse had stripped him of his shirt. He would have liked to have make fun of Sam at that point, but the humor escaped him and he couldn't form a single word of teasing to lighten the mood. He just stood by Sam's side, fingers clenched in firm firms, worry etched across his brow.

He listened as the doctor and nurse conversed across Sam's prone body, taking readings and shooting off instructions. Sam laid there, compliant, wheezing breaths fogging the oxygen mask now covering his pale face. Dean kept a comforting hand on his brother; on his thigh, his arm, his shoulder – moving around to keep out of the doctor's way. He wasn't letting go.

He'd kept his sure hand on Sam until they'd wheeled him away for tests and x-rays. He wasn't allowed to follow. Instead he'd been ushered out to the waiting room, with the promise of information as soon as it was available. He'd joined Bobby; appreciative of the support the older man gave, just by being there.

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Sam felt the isolation hit him as he was wheeled away from his brother, unmindful of the medical staff still at his side. He wanted Dean to come with him, to chase away the feeling of vulnerability, but he was too weak to voice his request.

He lay on his back, watching through half closed eyes as the fluorescent lights flickered overhead as he was pushed down the corridor. The nurse at his side kept up a one sided conversation, but he heard her voice rather than the actual words. Her soothing voice offered little comfort.

He remained mute as he was prodded and jabbed, too tired to protest the ministrations.

He worried about Dean.

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"Family of Sam Archer?"

Dean snapped to attention, his senses on full alert. Not missing a step, he strode purposefully over to the nurse, making his presence known. He felt Bobby's supportive hand on his shoulder, and he braced himself for the news.

"I'm Dean, his brother …Sam …How is he? …Can I see him?

"Sir, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to your brother."

He walked quickly beside the nurse, unconsciously urging her to move faster. Bobby kept an even stride behind them.

They were ushered into a ward and Sam was revealed as the nurse pulled aside the curtain surrounding his narrow bed.

Dean moved quickly to Sam's side and laid his palm across his brother's limp hand. He was rewarded when Sam opened his bleary eyes, acknowledging his presence.

"The doctor will be back to speak with you in a minute." The nurse stated before moving away.

"Ah …thanks" Bobby spoke to her retreating back as he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

"Hey kiddo, how ya feeling?" Dean asked, searching his brother's face. Sam still looked pale and fevered, but his breathing sounded slightly improved.

Sam fumbled for the oxygen mask, trying to pull it down so that he could answer.

"No. Leave that on …you need it." Dean placed his hand over Sam's fumbling fingers, halting their progress. He pushed the mask firmly back into place over Sam's mouth and nose.

"God Sam …you trying to push me into an early grave? …You gotta get a grip on this breathing thing dude…I mean …you've been doing it for years …and ah …now, you suddenly forget how its done? … …You know Bobby's pretty pissed about that lamp man …soon as we get back, you're gonna have to clean up that mess you made…I'm not cleaning up after you …and Bobby …well, you're gonna have to buy him a new lamp…soon as we get you out of here… "

Sam closed his eyes, letting the sleep wash over him as Dean's voice droned on in the background, soothing and comforting.

Dean stopped his tirade as the stocky middle aged doctor approached Sam's side, unhooking his chart from the end of the bed. After a quick glance at Sam and a look over the chart, he turned his attention to Dean.

"Sam ...my brother ...what ...how...?" Dean fumbled over the question in his desperation to get answers.

"Mr Archer, after the medical history you gave us on your brother, we've run a number of tests, and Sam has had a few x-rays taken. To be honest, I'm very surprised that you didn't bring Sam in straight away for a check-up after that choking incident you mentioned. You had to give him CPR, is that right?"

"Ah, yeah."

"And you didn't think that maybe it would have been prudent to seek medical assistance after such a traumatic event?"

"Ah …well …he seemed okay …I…"

"And, after Sam nearly asphyxiated, you what …you took him on a hunting trip?"

"Well, we… that is …I …ah…"

"And during this hunting trip – I'm not even going to ask what it was that you were hunting by the way – Sam trips and falls, hits his head and slashes open his side?"

"Ah …yeah …but …"

"And Sam briefly lost consciousness after the fall; after hitting his head, am I correct?"

"Yeah."

"So, you just decided to take him home and stitch him up yourself?"

"Well, I …ah …thought it would be …"

"I have to ask Mr Archer, from where exactly did you obtain your medical degree?"

"Ah…"

"Because I've got to tell you, in all my years as a medical professional, I have never seen such a blatant disregard…" The doctor paused and took a deep breath, reigning in his temper.

"You should have sought medical care immediately. When somebody chokes, when you have to administer CPR, those actions can have serious consequences. You don't take them hiking, you don't even take them on a picnic; you take them to the hospital. I'm not even going to start on his other injuries."

Dean felt as though he'd been punched in the gut as he listened to the doctor's words. He listened to each accusation, to every mention of his shameful neglect. He felt the blame and could find no excuse.

"Wasn't his fault …I …I wouldn't let him bring me …to the hospital." Sam whispered from the bed, eyes still closed. He held his oxygen mask slightly away from his mouth, but the words were still slurred and weak. He let the mask fall back into place before dropping his hand back to his side.

"No Sammy …this isn't your fault …I should have insisted…" Dean stroked a hand across his brother's fevered forehead, moving the damp curls of hair off his face before turning his attention back to the doctor.

"What's wrong with him?" Dean asked; an edge of fear in his voice as he looked at the doctor's somber face.

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**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading – just a few more chapters to go.

**Reviews are love.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **I just search the internet for all the medical information and jargon – I have absolutely no medical knowledge – so if you do, I apologize for any mistakes. As usual, blame all the mistakes on me …no beta …just me.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 11**

Dean held his emotions in check, knowing that he had to control his temper in order to get the help his brother so desperately needed. He kept his clenched fist forcefully at his size, fighting the urge to hit the impertinent doctor. He wouldn't be able to stop at one punch though, and although he felt the doctor deserved it, he internalized his anger as he stood rigidly at Sam's side. He didn't mind the doctor heaping some of the blame on him, hell, he deserved it, but if the doctor could just spend a little less time berating him and a bit more time helping Sam, he'd be much less pissed off at this point.

"Sam is a very sick young man…." The doctor began, only to be interrupted by Sam coughing forcefully against the oxygen mask.

Shit, it sounded as though he was trying to cough up a lung, Dean thought, helping to prop his brother up a little in the bed. Sam leant forward, trying to catch his breath as the coughing assaulted his already weak body.

Dean rubbed Sam's back in gentle circular movements, easing him through the ordeal. He watched as the doctor monitored Sam's vitals.

"Shhh Sammy …just breath through it…"

When the coughing eased, Dean laid his brother back down, resting his head against the pillow. It was then that he noticed it, and it sent a wave of fear coursing through him.

Sam's oxygen mask was splattered with blood.

"What's wrong with him?" Dean turned beseeching eyes to the Doctor.

Dean's body was tense as he waited for the doctor to answer, trying not to interpret too much from the doctor's somber facade. He needed Sam to be alright – to get better.

"Well …as I was saying, Sam is a very sick young man ...who should have been in hospital a couple of days ago."

Dean clenched his fists tightly, knuckles turning white against the pressure. He kept his mouth closed, afraid of what would come out should he vocalise his thoughts.

"…A common complication of choking is that the patient may fail to dislodge a foreign object, even after you think you've cleared their airway and they're breathing again." The Doctor gave Dean a critical look before continuing. "In Sam's case, he has foreign material lodged in his right mainstem bronchus. Although the major obstructing item, a peanut m&m I think you said, was removed, it appears that smaller peanut fragments have remain lodged in his bronchus. …Peanuts are actually the most commonly inhaled foreign bodies …because their size and shape make it easy for them to be readily aspirated into the mainstem bronchus. Smaller fragments of peanut often then move more distally into the bronchial tree. The peanut oils, proteins, and fatty acids act as irritants, resulting in inflammation which leads to mucosal edema and irritation that further traps the peanut fragments. As the peanut absorbs water, it swells …and the result is a soft, friable particle that is trapped within an inflamed bronchus …which can be quite difficult to remove."

"But you can remove it …right?" Dean moved to grip Sam's limp hand as he asked the pertinent question.

Dean felt a heavy reassuring hand on his shoulder as Bobby moved beside him, offering silent support as the doctor delivered his prognosis.

"We're going to have to use a rigid bronchoscopy under general anesthesia to remove the item…"

"So then he'll be okay …right?"

"The procedure has a high success rate, however, like any surgery, there are risks. The major risk of the procedure is local damage to the airways, and although we obviously try to avoid this, resulting damage depends on the position of the foreign body. Additionally, hemoptysis, hypoxemia, and airway perforation may occur due to the local trauma."

"Uh…"

"On rare occasions, during the procedure, the object may be impacted further into the airway or may be released by the forceps just below the glottis…causing airway obstruction. Perforation of the airway may lead to a bronchopleural fistula."

Dean wasn't sure if the doctor was now just being a smart ass and using terms he knew Dean would have no hope of understanding, or if that was just his usual manner. In any case, he was really starting to piss Dean off big time.

"And if you don't …if you don't do the procedure?"

"Sam's condition will continue to deteriorate...rapidly"

Dean gave Sam's hand a reassuring squeeze, not sure if his brother was listening to the conversation. Sam's eyes had remained closed since his coughing fit, and he lay on the bed, pale and silent except for the wheezing breath sounds against the oxygen mask.

"Ah …so when exactly …when'll Sam get the procedure?"

"As soon as a theatre becomes available …it's already been delayed too long..."

Dean wanted to hit him, really hard, right in the centre of his smart mouth. But he didn't. Restraint wasn't something he usually excelled at.

Bobby's fingers gripped tightly into Dean's shoulder. He could read Dean's reaction like an open book after knowing the younger man for many years. He knew that Dean was barely holding on to his temper, and the last thing they needed at this point was Dean causing a raucous.

"… As soon as he comes out of surgery, we'll also need to start Sam on intravenous antibiotics to fight the respiratory infection and for the laceration on his side." The doctor pushed the call button before continuing. "I'll have the nurse ready him for surgery and have the consent forms brought in for you to look over." He made some notes on the chart as he spoke.

As the nurse entered, the doctor handed her Sam's chart and issued some instructions before nodding to Dean and Bobby and leaving the room.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as the doctor removed his obnoxious presence from the room. The guy had really managed to rub him up the wrong way, and the longer they remained in the same room together, the harder it became for Dean to hold his tongue, and keep his fists lowered. If he wasn't putting Sam before everything else, he would have taught the guy a lesson in civility already.

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Dean felt as if his life was repeating itself as he paced the floor of the crowded waiting room – again. Bobby, again, sat in one of the hard chairs as he silently read a day old discarded newspaper, glancing up occasionally to observe Deans progress backwards and forwards across the room.

Dean had stayed with Sam until the last minute, when the nurse had stood firm against letting him follow his brother as they wheeled the gurney away. Away to the sterile operating room. He watched as his brother disappeared behind the closing double doors, leaving the now empty corridor silent and lonely.

They didn't seem to understand that Sam was all he had left.

The only important thing in his life.

His only reason for living.

He couldn't lose his brother like this. Not after everything they'd been through.

Everything they'd been through together.

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**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading – short chapter I know – but I wanted to update quickly after the awful cliffhanger of the last chapter.

**Reviews are love.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Author's Note: **My young daughter recently underwent surgery, and I gowned up and stayed with her in the operating room until the anesthetic took effect. I used this experience as a guide for part of this chapter.

**Obstruction**

**Chapter 12**

Sam was still conscious as they wheeled him down the corridor, the gurney wheels making barely a sound on the smooth floor. He felt the loss of his brother's presence as the hospital staff pushed him steadily towards the operating theatre.

He was feeling apprehensive about what was to follow, having listened in to the conversation between Dean and his doctor. His trepidation obviously showed as the beeping monitor, attached to him via a clip to his finger, picked up its pace as they neared their destination.

"Just relax sweetie …it'll be over before you know it ...nothin' to worry yourself about." The matronly nurse patted his shoulder.

Sam was relieved when the gurney finally came to a stop; the constant moving had started to make him feel nauseous. He lay unresisting as the kindly nurse prepared him for the upcoming surgery. He felt the papery cap being placed over his head, securing his hair away from his head. He vaguely though about how glad he was that Dean wasn't with him to tease him about the _look_, before deciding that a little teasing would have been a small price to pay to have Dean by his side.

As the gurney moved again he started to feel real fear. His heart rate picked up and his breathing started to become more difficult. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar surroundings, and as the gurney came to a smooth stop, he wished he could be anywhere else but here.

He closed his eyes against the harsh overhead lights, trying to calm himself as he acknowledged that he no longer had any control over his current situation.

He didn't like the feeling of helplessness.

He listened to the voices around him, giving as small nod in answer to the questions directed at him when required. He felt the mask being removed from his face, and he struggled for a moment to breathe without the added assistance of the pumped oxygen. He relaxed as it was replaced by a sturdier mask, secured firmly over his nose and mouth.

"Sam, I need you to count backwards from one hundred for me …can you do that?"

He nodded.

"Hundred." Sam croaked, his voice barely audible.

"Ninety nine."

"Ninety eight."

"Nin…yyy seven."

"Nin… si…"

"Nin…f…"

"Nnn…"

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Sam slowly opened his eyes. The dimly lit room was a stark contrast to his last conscious memory of the harsh operating room lights shining in his face.

'It must be over' was his first conscious thought as he awoke more fully, realizing that he was back in a stark hospital room.

He turned his head to the side, seeking out his brother, following the direction of the gentle snores which reverberated loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Dean was obviously deeply asleep; he'd have to be, to be unmoving in his awkward position. Dean's head rested against the back edge of the vinyl chair, his mouth open towards the ceiling and legs stretched out in front. If he'd had his cell handy, Sam would've snapped a picture, just for the memory of course.

Through half closed eyes, he watched Dean sleep, the small sounds his brother made helping to relax him with their regularity. He soon drifted back to sleep.

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"Hey Sam …time to wake up man."

"Hmmmm."

"Come on princess …enough with the sleeping."

"Hmmmmm ….nuh."

"Well …at least cover yourself up man …I mean …the nurses really don't want to see everything you've got on display."

"Huh?" Sam sluggishly digested Dean's words. Opening his resisting eyes, he quickly glanced down the bed, reassuring himself that he was covered adequately by the thin hospital gown and bed sheet.

"Dude …so not funny."

Sam raised a trembling hand to his sore throat, gently massaging the tender length.

"Been waiting for you to wake for hour's man. …There's nothing to do here …I'm bored outta my freakin' skull."

"Nice Dean …wake me up to entertain yourself."

Sam fingered the intravenous drip attached to his arm, using his nail to scrape at the tape holding it in place. He noticed that the bag was nearly empty.

"How long've I been here?" Sam asked.

"Came in last night. Its 'bout noon now …wonder when they're gonna bring you lunch …cause man, I'm starving."

"Where's Bobby?"

"Gone back to the house. Should be back soon …he's gonna bring you some clean clothes …and damn …I hope he remembers to bring me coffee ...God, I'd kill for a cup right about now."

Sam looked towards the door as a nurse walked in pushing a food cart. She pulled across a table and placed Sam's lunch tray on top before raising the head of his bed a little.

"You probably won't feel like eating much …with your throat and all …but your brother here ordered a full lunch for you …said you were sure to be hungry when you woke up." The nurse gave him a sympathetic smile before turning away.

Sam looked at the plate of food and turned a little paler. Even swallowing was agony on his throat, there was no way he could handle a sandwich or really anything else. Maybe the juice, but that was about it.

He watched as Dean reached across and helped himself to the sandwich.

"Hey man …knew you wouldn't be eating." Dean took a large bite. "What? …Didn't think I ordered it for you, did you?"

Sam sipped the juice slowly through the straw as he watched Dean wolf down the sandwich. Dean had almost worked his way through the entire tray of food when Bobby made his way into the room.

"Boys. …Sam …good to see you awake …brought you some clothes." Bobby put the bag down near the end of the bed. He handed Dean the cup of coffee he clutched in his other hand.

"Thanks Bobby." Sam said, his voice hoarse.

Dean took a long swig of the hot coffee, relishing the long awaited for taste. "Yeah, thanks Bobby."

"Just give me a minute to change …then we can get outta here." Sam stated, trying to pull himself up into a sitting position. He gasped as he pulled against the still raw stitches in his side.

"Whoa …hang on man …you just got outta surgery …doc says you gotta stay a couple more days." Dean pushed his brother back down onto the bed.

"Bobby?" Sam sought help from other quarters.

"Hey, leave me outta this …I ain't gonna intervene between the two of you …you boys sort this one out on your own." Bobby shook his head and backed away slightly, distancing himself from the brothers.

Sam braced himself as a cough tickled the back of his throat. He couldn't prevent his body from actually coughing, even though each movement jarred on his stitches and sent shafts of pain down his throat and into his chest.

Dean held his shoulders as he rode through the pain, gradually bringing his breathing back under control. When Dean held a glass of cool water to his lips he took it gratefully, letting the water slide down and ease away the rest of the tickle in his throat. As his hand trembled, Dean reached across and took the glass before he could spill the remaining liquid onto his lap.

Sam felt Dean's hand support him as he lay back down against the mattress, closing his drowsy eyes as exhaustion overcame him. He drifted back to sleep under the watchful eye of Dean and Bobby.

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Dean kept his aggression in check as the doctor stood beside Sam's bed holding his medical chart, making little _tut tut_ sounds in the back of his throat as he read through the notes. Finally he returned the chart to the nurse at his side before approaching the head of Sam's bed.

Dean kept his protective instincts in check, reminding himself that this was the doctor who had helped his little brother.

"Sam …Sam …can you hear me?" The doctor laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, shaking him a little.

"Mmmmmm." Sam opened his eyes, just a fraction, to look at the doctor.

"How are you feeling this afternoon Sam?"

"Ah …good."

"I'm just going to check the stitches on your side …alright?"

"Ah…'kay."

"Mr Archer, if you'd like to wait outside …maybe afford your brother a little privacy." The doctor spoke directly to Dean.

Dean looked at Sam carefully before replying. "No, I'm sure my brother would prefer me to stay."

"Yeah." Sam nodded his head, agreeing with Dean without hesitation.

Sam flinched as the doctor probed his tender side, pulling part of the tape aside to check the sutured wound. Dean moved fractionally closer, standing guard at his brother's side.

"Well, Sam, the area's a little red, but the stitches seem to be holding well." The doctor patted the bandage back into place before pulling Sam's gown back down.

"How's your throat feeling?

"Okay." Sam answered.

Dean looked at his brother, raising his eyes in question.

"Ah, maybe a bit sore."

"Any pain when breathing …dizziness …nausea?"

"No."

Dean looked intently at Sam's face again, trying to ascertain the level of truth in Sam's responses.

Sam looked back at Dean. "No" he repeated with a little more conviction, "I feel okay."

"Well, your temperature's still elevated …so I'm going to start you on another stronger round of antibiotics …and I'll continue with the mild pain killers. If you feel that you need a mild sedative to sleep tonight, just mention it to the nurse, I'll write it up in your chart." The doctor waited for the nurse to hand him the chart before continuing. "Your throat's going to feel a bit raw for a while, so I suggest you stick to soft foods that are easy to swallow."

Sam nodded. "Yeah …sounds good."

"I'll check in on you again in the morning Sam."

"Thanks."

Dean shot daggers at the doctor's retreating back, pitying the nurse who scurried behind him. He sank back down onto the chair, leaning back and resting his feet on the side of the bed, tucked against Sam's side, on top of the white sheets.

"Dude, get 'em off." Sam swatted at Dean's boot clad feet.

Dean just smiled, keeping his feet firmly in place.

"Deeean."

"Not moving."

"So, where'd Bobby get to?" Sam asked, trying to distract Dean as he pushed more firmly at Dean's boots. They refused to budge.

"Got sick of watching you drool …think he went to get something to eat."

"Man, I don't drool."

"Do too."

"You snore." Sam stated to end the argument.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"You two at it already?" Bobby questioned from the doorway.

"Hey, is that food?" Dean spied the bag Bobby was carrying. "I think Sammy here's getting Jell-O for dinner and …uuggghhh …don't think I wanna share."

Bobby tossed Dean a wrapped burger. Dean opened the wrapper and bit hungrily into the large burger, a dribble of sauce running down his chin. Still chewing the first bite he paused, the burger poised an inch away from his mouth. He looked at his brother, suddenly feeling guilty for eating in front of him.

"Ah…" Dean started.

"Here you go Sam …didn't know if you'd be up for a burger …so I just gotcha a juice …freshly squeezed."

"Thanks Bobby." Sam took the offered drink, placing it carefully on the table beside him.

Bobby pulled another chair closer to the bed and settled down to demolish his own burger.

The room was suddenly quiet as both men focused on their food, like they hadn't eaten in days. Sam knew Dean had eaten lunch, having sacrificed his own meal for his brother. Not that he felt like eating anyway. His stomach felt like an empty pit, and he tried to remember how long it had been since he'd had a decent meal.

As the aroma of greasy burgers permeated the air, he suddenly realized that maybe his stomach wasn't as empty as he'd have liked. The burger aroma played havoc with his stomach, causing the meager contents to churn and roll. He swallowed back the nausea, trying not to breathe in through his nose; trying to block out the smell of freshly grilled hamburger meat.

Sam dropped his head and took fast shallow breaths in through his mouth, trying to focus on anything but the small of the food.

As the bile started to rise in his throat, he swallowed it back.

Saliva built up in his mouth and he swallowed this down also, only adding to the increasing nausea.

He took a small sip of juice, swallowing carefully. It didn't help.

No matter how hard he tried, he realized that he was only delaying the inevitable – he was going to be sick.

Fumbling around, he found the nurse call button and pressed it with urgency.

"Dean" he gasped, swallowing against the rising bile.

Dean saw Sam press the nurse call button. "Sam?" He asked, concern washing over him.

Dean rested his partially consumed burger on the arm rest of the chair as he rose quickly to his brother's side.

Sam had little warning as the next wave of nausea hit him with force. He had no time to take evasive action as his stomach clenched, sending its contents upwards and into his throat. Instinctively, he leant forward so that he didn't choke on his own vomit. Instead, in one sudden rush, he vomited all over his lap, the stomach contents vivid against the white sheets.

The action sent pain shooting through his wounded side and burnt his tender throat. He wrapped an arm across his middle, nursing his side as he readied himself in case he had to endure another round.

Dean held his brothers shoulders firmly, not wanting him to face plant into the vile mess.

"Shit Sam." Dean uttered as he pressed the call button again.

"Ah …lucky you moved your boots." Sam smiled weakly.

"I'll ah …just go for a walk …be back soon." Bobby said, making a hasty exit, passing the nurse as she walked into the room.

"Sorry." Sam whispered, to both the nurse and Dean, feeling a little humiliated.

Dean moved aside as the nurse spoke soothingly to Sam, stripping the bed of the soiled linens.

Dean reached for the remainder of his burger, tossing it into the trash. He'd completely lost his appetite.

As soon as he heard the nurse mention 'sponge bath', Dean gave a not too subtle cough. "I'll ah, go see what's up with Bobby…" He gave Sam a wide smile before striding out of the room.

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Sam was asleep when Dean returned to the room. He stood for a moment beside the bed, looking down at the face of his pale brother. Sam seemed to have lost weight over the last few days, and his ashen color only highlighted the dark circles under his eyes. He was glad that at least he was breathing easier now, having lost the asthmatic sounding wheeze.

He sat back down onto the chair, taking one last look at Sam before closing his eyes. Lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him, and he needed to get in a couple of hours while Sam was sleeping.

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Bobby entered the room quietly the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, to see both Sam and Dean sleeping soundly in their respective positions. He smiled to himself, realizing that this would be one of the rare times when he'd seen the brother's in the same room and not bantering or bickering back and forth. It made for a welcome change.

He pulled up another chair, and settled in, waiting for the brothers to wake.

Sam woke up a little while later and looked across at the two men sleeping in the chairs beside his bed, one weathered and gruff, the other looking almost serene in his peaceful slumber.

He looked at the intravenous drip still attached to his arm, annoyed that he was still attached to it. He needed to get to the bathroom and he'd have to take the damn thing with him.

Sitting up slowly in the bed, he grimaced at the pull to his stitches, but was relieved that he was actually starting to feel a little better. Careful to make minimal noise, he pulled down the bed sheets before swinging his legs over the side. Cautiously he slid the rest of the way off, keeping a hand on the bed for balance as his legs trembled a bit under his weight. He leant against the bed for a moment with his eyes closed as he waited for the room to stop spinning and for his legs to become steadier.

"God dammit …what the hell do you think you're doing?"

He jerked around at Dean's unexpected words, causing him to sway for a moment until he regained his balance.

"Goin' to the bathroom."

"Nah, I don't think so …get back into bed …now Sam."

"Dean, I gotta take a leak man."

"Yeah well …press the call button …that's what its there for."

"Dean…" Sam stubbornly took a small step towards the bathroom."

"Oh for God's sake…" Dean moved over to Sam, helping to support him and guide him towards the bathroom.

Sam stopped at the bathroom door. "Ah, can you get me my bag …wanna clean my teeth…"

Dean went to the bag and rummaged around for Sam's toothbrush and toothpaste, before returning and handing the items to his brother.

"Ah, can you just bring me the whole bag …I ah …want to get changed."

"Sam …I don't think…"

"Dean, will you just get me the bag."

"You shouldn't even be outta bed yet."

"The bag Dean,"

"No."

"I'll get it myself then." Sam said stubbornly, leaning on the door frame for support.

"Dean, will you just get your brother the god damn bag." Bobby piped up.

"Great, two against one." Dean mumbled as he stomped over and picked up the bag before dumping it on the bathroom floor near Sam's feet.

"Thanks Dean" Sam said, closing the bathroom door.

Dean stood outside the bathroom, listening to Sam's movements inside. He remained there; ready to give assistance if needed, until Sam eventually opened the door, now fully dressed except for his boots.

"I'm ready to go." Sam announced.

"Sam, where's your IV?"

"Took it out …"

"Dammit Sam." Dean grabbed his brother's arm and guided him back to sit on the bed. "I'm gonna speak to the nurse…get her to put it back in." Dean stormed out of the room.

Bobby helped Sam get on his boots before collecting the rest of their belongings. He figured that Sam was a grown man who could make his own decisions.

Dean returned to the room a few minutes later. "Spoke to your nurse …she paged the doc - he's gonna come up and see you in a few minutes."

Sam glared at Dean. "So …its okay for you to check yourself outta a hospital, but me …I have to get permission?"

"Yeah …that's the way it is."

"So you make all the rules now?"

"Yep."

"And who made you boss?"

"Will you give it a break!" Bobby interrupted loudly, running a hand over his unshaven face.

Dean and Sam sat in strained silence as they waited for the doctor's arrival. Dean wasn't looking forward to seeing the same doctor again, and wondered not for the first time, what he had done to get so far on the wrong side of this doctor.

Thinking of the devil, in he walked, sure and confident in his stride. Then he paused, looking momentarily surprised to see Sam dressed and sitting up on the side of the bed.

"Ah Sam, I see you're feeling a little better."

"Yeah …I ah …I'm ready to go home."

"Not enjoying your stay?"

"I feel much better."

"Let's see shall we." The doctor read Sam's chart before checking Sam's wound and asking pertinent questions about his level of pain and discomfort.

"Well, your temperatures almost within the normal range and you're healing nicely. You still need antibiotics for a few more days, and you realize that if you leave the hospital, you'll no longer be on the intravenous pain medication - you'll have to take medications orally, and you'll need to be able to keep them down."

"Yeah."

"And you'll need to rest …no hunting trips." He looked at Dean as he spoke the last three words.

Dean clenched his teeth together, biting back a retort.

"Yeah, I'll take it easy."

"Okay, give me a few minutes; I'll have the paperwork drawn up." He said, leaving the room.

"Dude, I gotta slug that doctor before we leave." Dean growled anger evident in his stance.

"Ah Bobby …I think its time to go now …before ah …" Sam looked pointedly at Dean.

"Dean, why don't you bring the car round …make it easier for Sam. I'll bring Sam down once the paperwork's done." Bobby suggested.

"Yeah …good idea …I'll park near the front entrance." Dean grabbed Sam's bag and left the room.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that disaster had just been averted. He gave Bobby a smile of thanks.

Ten minutes later, the discharge paperwork had been completed and Sam clutched his prescriptions in his hand as Bobby pushed his wheel chair towards the hospital exit. He saw the Impala idling outside, Dean standing at its side.

He headed towards the car eagerly, impatient to leave the hospital behind.

Dean smiled as he saw his brother being pushed in his direction, moving to assist Sam out of the wheel chair.

"Dude …a wheel chair?"

"Policy." Sam mumbled, struggling to get out of the contraption.

Dean smiled and helped his brother into the car.

**_End._**

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**Author's note:** That's it – I'm all out of trauma!

Well, this has been my longest story ever (approx 22,500 words) and a lot of work. I really hope that if you've come this far, you enjoyed reading it.

**I'd love a review. **


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